


Maid in Manhatten

by Stranger_and_stranger



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon-Typical Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Homophobia, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Slow Burn, brief mentions of previous suicidal thoughts and depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-03-21 00:06:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 42,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13728876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stranger_and_stranger/pseuds/Stranger_and_stranger
Summary: Maid in Manhattan AU:  A hotel maid and a world class Exy player fall for each other in a New York hotel called The Foxhole.





	1. I Reputation

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is the first fic I've ever shared so I hope it's up to scratch. 
> 
> Set five or so years after canon. With five extra years of counselling and five extra years between him and his trauma, I’m imagining Andrew as a little more moderate and a fraction less guarded. Also Neil is a little more clued up on his own sexuality, with a few more years apart from Mary.
> 
> I’ve never been to America so I’m making lots of stuff up… artistic licence right?
> 
> I have a lot planned out for this one, so I hope you're in for a few more chapters ;)
> 
> Enjoy!

**I**

**Reputation**

 There was blood on his hoodie.  Neil cursed quietly, and let his head fall against the rattling plastic window of the subway train.  That was the cherry on top of an incredibly shitty morning.  In the subway in December it was too cold for him to take off the hoodie.  He pulled the hood a little further over his face and hoped it would be enough to make people stay out of his way until he got to work. 

He’d made this journey often enough that he got up automatically as the train approached his station, and his feet handled the short walk to The Foxhole Hotel without his intervention. The thought made his stomach churn.  This was why last night had happened.  This is why he needed to run. 

He stopped outside The Foxhole.  The sight of the building, solid and square and safe, gave him just enough courage to bury the impulse to run.  Right in the centre of Manhattan, on the edge of the Flatiron district, the Foxhole was surrounded smug boutiques, restaurants and hotels.  It didn’t quite fit in- maybe it was the orange trim, or the hanging baskets of orange flowers, or the truly obnoxious orange carpet in the lobby.  Or maybe it was because their nightly rate was less than a small fortune.  

Neil glanced at his watch and groaned.  He hurried up the white steps and through the revolving doors.  

Matt looked up at the reception desk.  

‘You’re late!’ he sang. 

‘I know that.’ Neil said, as he crossed the lobby.  ‘Question is, does Wymack know?’ 

‘You better believe it,’ Matt laughed.  ‘I hope you have a good reason this time.  Wait- is that blood on your hoodie?’ 

Neil only grimaced in response, and was out of the lobby before Matt could get a closer look at the stain.  He jogged down the narrow staircase to the below-ground level where the staff changing rooms and canteen were.  He was dressed in seconds, and shoved his bloody hoodie in the bottom of his locker to be dealt with later.

 He made it into the staffroom for the last minute of the morning brief.

 ‘-new guest tonight in room 103, so make sure it’s impeccable.  I don’t know if any of you follow Exy,’ a few maids whooped, ‘but this guy’s pretty famous and he’s here on personal business, so don’t spread it around.  Any of you losers ask him for an autograph and I will put you on solid night shifts for a month.  Alright, get out of my sight.’

 Neil turned on his heel and-

 ‘Not you, Josten.  Get back here.’

 He walked back and stood in front of Wymack.  The manager studied him intently for a moment.  Neil shifted uncomfortably, and lowered his gaze- just low enough that he’d still see if Wymack raised his arms or tensed. 

 ‘You were half an hour late.  You usually get here half an hour before you shift.  Anything you want to tell me?’

 ‘There were delays on the Subway.  It won’t happen again,’ Neil said quietly.

 Wymack’s frown deepened.  ‘Boyd said you were a mess when you came in.’

 It wasn’t a question, so Neil didn’t say anything.

 The older man sighed.  ‘I swear kid, I’m not trying to bust you balls.  Just know that if you have a problem, you can tell me and I’ll do what I can to sort it.’

 Neil would have brushed the comment off as the usual team player, here to help bullshit that he’d heard his whole life, if he didn’t know already that Wymack was genuine. 

Dan, the assistant manager, had told him how Wymack had helped her find a new place when the prices rose in her old neighbourhood, and had even given her the next month’s wages in advance, plus a little extra, to tide her over.  He knew that Wymack had taken the pay of the maids up with the owners time and time again, and because of him, their wages had been rising year on year while the manager’s pay stagnated.  He knew the Foxhole’s policy on harassment of maids- which so many hotel dismissed as an occupational hazard, and covered up to prevent embarrassing the guests- was zero tolerance because of Wymack, and it was at his insistence that harassment was routinely reported to the police, and guests that were reported for harassment were barred with no further questions asked.

But it didn’t matter if Wymack was genuine.  Neil’s problems were not the kind he could handle, and Neil’s habits, reinforced every day of his twenty-one years, were too deeply ingrained to break. 

‘I’ll tell you if I have a problem,’ Neil lied.

Although he’d arrived late, he still had the same number of rooms to get through before his shift was over.  Twelve rooms, six hours.  Just under thirty minutes to clean each.  He grabbed a trolley and stocked it up, then headed for the third floor and got to work, tidying and moving laundry out first then vacuuming, then bathroom.  The work may have been dull, but it was surprisingly peaceful.  He generally only had to spend a few minutes a day with other people, and sometimes his break, but while he was cleaning he could go hours without seeing a soul.

The third room on his list was 103.  Neil was pretty sure he’d been given that room accidently, as he was one of the least experienced maids, only working for six months. 

He’d decided to get a job, despite the hassle.  He was sure he’d go crazy otherwise, and sitting around his apartment or wandering the streets actually drew more attention.  And he needed the money.  Maybe his mother could have accepted that, but she’d beat him to within an inch of his life if she knew he wanted to stay after what had happened last night. 

The thought of her still made his throat burn and his hands twitch, even after all this time.  He scrubbed the tiles of the bathroom floor like he could wash away the memories.

He’d get his work done.  He’d take it one hour at a time, and when his shift was over he’d decide what to do tonight, now he had no apartment to return to.

 

***

Andrew refused to look away from the departures board.

 If he let his eyes shift even a little, he’d see the huge windows, and in his peripheral vision, the planes.  He’d see them landing and taking off and circling, suspended over thirty-nine thousand feet of nothing. 

 He had stood frozen in the carpark, one hand on the roof of his Maserati, for a solid ten minutes, fighting down the urge to get back in and get away from the airport.  He reminded himself, again and again, that he had to be in New York, that it would take more than a day to drive, that it was a two hour flight.

 New York scrolled across the board in neon letters.  Andrew glanced at the information, and walked briskly the gate, knowing that rushing wouldn’t make the plane come any earlier, unable to help himself. 

 He stood at the empty ticket desk, as the first of the passengers began to trickle into the departure lounge and settle on the seats.  He twisted his ticket in and out of his fingers.  He already had a rental car waiting for him at the other end, a hotel room booked- he hadn’t even had to book his own plane ticket.  He supposed it was one of the perks of being a world-class Exy player- people were always falling over themselves to do things for him.

 He checked his phone- a new smart phone that had been foisted on him, with a plethora of inventively helpful features that he would never use.  It was five PM already.  The plane was late.  He was going to be late.  The hospital visiting hours were strictly enforced, and he was going to miss them.  He closed his eyes tightly, trying desperately to quell his mounting panic, and didn’t open them until a voice at his ear sent him stumbling into the person behind him in the queue that had built up while he disassociated. 

 ‘Sir?  Can I see your ticket?’

 He scrubbed a hand over his face, and handed it over wordlessly.  Then he was past the desk, along the corridor, onto the connecting passage, through the plane doors.  Down the plane.  Seat 29.  In his seat.

 Two hours of white noise, and then he was touching down in New York.

 He was up and out of the plane in a half-second, barely noticing the indignant strangers that he overtook on his way down the aisle.  He pulled his carry on backpack over both shoulders and jogged through the airport, wasted precious minutes searching for the exit that lead to the car rental place.

 He gave his name but didn’t speak again, just paid the deposit and nodded without listening as they checked the car over and confirmed terms and conditions.  Then, finally, he was behind the wheel of a car again, and his breath came easier for a moment.  It wasn’t as nice as his Maserati, but it would do for the moment. 

 Some idiot had wrapped tinsel around the base of the rear view mirror.  He ripped it down and stuffed it beneath the seat before starting the car and heading straight to the hospital.

 

***

 

Neil finished his last room for the night and slowly changed back into his own clothes, with his thinner (but also less bloodstained) extra hoodie.  The fresh wound on his stomach, courtesy of this morning, was giving him some trouble after a day of scrubbing.  He swung his duffel across his body and pulled his hood up.  He stood hesitating, agonising, in the doorway of the staffroom.  Turn left, and he’d reach the exit, then the street, and then he would run.  Turn right, and he would head up the corridor, head ducked, take the guest lift to the fourth floor, and use the lock picks in his duffel to break into room 128, where no one, staff or guest, would be until ten AM tomorrow. 

 The lines clawed into his right arm by desperate nails, long ago on a beach in California, itched and crawled.  They were all he had left of his mother.  They’d faded over the years, unlike his other, deeper scars, which left a bitter taste in Neil’s mouth. The rest of his body was owned by his father.   

 ‘Sorry, Mom,’ Neil muttered, and turned to the right.

 His heart was pounding by the time he finally slammed the door to 128 behind himself, and fell back against it.  He knew there were no security cameras that could view this stretch of corridor, but the risk of staff or a guest finding him halfway through picking the lock had been far too high.

Eventually, he pulled himself upright, and stumbled to the far side of the bed.  He crumpled on the floor with the bed at his back, between him and the door.  And he forced himself to think about the morning.

It had been two AM when the sound of breaking glass had sent him lurching from his bed.  He’d been across the room and down the hall in a split second, but as he sprinted through the kitchen someone had caught at his shoulder, sending him careening into the counter.  The next few minutes were a blur of desperation and pain, but he could remember feeling cold metal at his fingertips, grasping blindly, and driving the steak knife into the man’s thigh.

Neil touched his stomach lightly, where the blood had splattered on his other hoodie. 

He’d got out, somehow, and left the man bleeding behind him.  The noise must have woken half the building. He’d collided with his landlord on his mad rush down the stairs.  The woman had given a short half-scream at the sight of him, at the blood on his hands and face and hoodie.  He’d shoved past her and got to the bottom of the stairs.

And then, suddenly, at the bottom of the stairs, he was on the floor.  He tried to push himself up, but his arms hadn’t worked.  It had been then that he’d noticed the stab wound on his stomach.  In his stomach.

Unfortunately, the ambulance had arrived quickly.  He’s spent almost three hours in hospital before he’d had an unsupervised moment, and got the hell out of there.

At least he’d managed to find a public bathroom to rinse the worst of the blood off.  Then what? He’d wondered between backstreets in daze, and his feet had carried him to the subway.  He curled up in one corner, and let the speed of the trains soothe him.  He gone round and round, one line after another for hours, until he’d somehow ended up on the train to work- and from there on, he’d acted on instinct.

His hands were shaking again, like they had been on and off all day, so he got up and crossed the room to the glass door that opened onto the balcony. It overlooked the grimy New York skyline.  He stepped outside and sat on the edge, thrusting his legs between the bars and letting them dangle.

He had to leave.  There was no question of staying.  The man could have been his father’s, or maybe, maybe just a thief, attracted to Neil’s building by the shitty security and non-presence of police in the area.  Either way, it should have been the wake-up call to shake Neil out of his fantasy of being able to live a normal life, with a job and a pay check and someplace to come back to every night.

He wasn’t ready to let it go.  Couldn’t he have this, just for a few more days?

After all, a hotel was a good place to hide out- too many people coming and going to keep track of, too many rooms and floor, too much security.  What’s more, they’d be expecting him to run, and they’d be watching the routes out of the city.  Maybe lying low in New York would help him shake them.

Somehow, as the diffuse evening light drained from the city below him, Neil found it hard to worry about tomorrow.  Something about the night was comforting, though at the same time it made his chest ache, like his lungs were filling with-

Smoke.  That’s what he could taste; cigarette smoke.  He looked at the balconies to either side, but they were empty, and there was no balcony above him for some way.  There was, however, a balcony directly below.

Neil twisted his torso and passed his shoulder and then his head between the bars of the railing.  The bar between his legs kept him reasonably secure as he craned out and peered at the balcony below.

On the balcony below, someone was sitting in almost exactly the same position as him; their legs dangling off the balcony, but perched even more hazardously on the top of the railing.  The concrete below them was littered with glowing cigarette butts- although most looked hardly half-used.  As he watched, they lit up another cigarette, only to violently extinguish it a few seconds later, sending another wisp of smoking curling upwards towards Neil.

‘That’s an expensive smoking style,’ Neil commented idly.

Almost imperceptibly, the smoker started- but his apparent shock at finding himself watched was belied by the blank look he turned on Neil.  It was Andrew Minyard.

‘If you’re trying to cut down, you’re doing it wrong,’ he added.

‘If you’re trying to fall thirty feet to your death, you’re doing it right,’ Andrew Minyard said.  ‘I will not try to catch you on your way down.’

‘It’d be good for your image, no?  Heroic exy player saves stranger from certain death,’ he narrated, in the style of a newsreader.  ‘Your publicist would love it.’

‘My publicist would not believe the story, and would not be optimistic enough to expect the public to.’

This was probably true.  Andrew’s image had been tarnished from his first moments in the limelight, when it had come out that he’d spent time in juvie, and had repeated with a similarly violent offence a couple of years later.  He’d done nothing as an adult to recover the reputation he’d trashed as a teenager.  Team mates past and present had divulged he was difficult and dangerous to work with.  Fortunately for Andrew, his talent outweighed his unsavoury qualities.

‘In that case, you should start with a smaller good deed, like giving a smoke to a stranger.  That’d be more believable.’

‘By “smaller”, you appear to assume that your life is worth more to me than a cigarette.’

Neil grinned down at him.  ‘See, that’s exactly the kind of comment you need to stop if you ever want to recover your reputation.’

Andrew was silent for a few seconds.  He’d been smoking the same cigarette all the while they’d been talking, so at least this one was lasting more than one inhale.  Neil leant back on his hand, and looked up at the sky.  He couldn’t see any stars- too much pollution probably- but he watched a plane flying above them.

‘What is your name?’

Neil blanched.  ‘Why?’

‘You wanted polite,’ Andrew said, and Neil thought that maybe there was a hint of mockery in his colourless voice.  ‘Is it not polite conversation to ask your acquaintance’s name?’

Neil hummed noncommittally.  Caution prickled, but the smoke and evening air had awoken some reckless, carefree feeling in him that he hadn’t had in years.

‘How about an exchange?  I’ll give you my name for a cigarette.’  Neil leant forward to watch Andrew’s reaction.  Andrew didn’t look amused.  His eyes dropped to his pack of cigarettes and he seemed to weigh up the offer. 

Eventually, he reached for the pack.  He looked up at Neil, eyes narrowed, and lent back a fraction more over the edge of the balcony, the knuckles going white on the hand gripping the railing.  He drew his arm back and sent the pack flying right at Neil’s face.  Neil caught it, and shot Andrew an irritated look that he calmly ignored.

There was a lighter inside the pack.  Neil lit up and took a drag before cupping the cigarette in his hands.  He nudged the pack back over the edge and was only slightly disappointed that Andrew caught it before it hit him.

The sat in silence for a long while.  Andrew migrated from his perch on the railing to lying flat on his back on the balcony floor.  Since it was attached to a fancy suite, his balcony was wider and jutted slightly further than Neil’s, so Neil could still see him.

 He’d long since finished the cigarette when he said, ‘My name is Neil.  Neil Jo-hnson’. 

 At the last second, his nerve failed him.  He couldn’t risk Andrew telling any of the staff about him, not if they’d be able to connect the unregistered guest in room 128 and Neil Josten, maid.  He bit the inside of his cheek, and hoped Andrew hadn’t picked up on the hesitation. 

 ‘Neil Johnson.  Let’s play a game.  Here’s how it goes.  I ask you a question, and you give me a truth.  Then you take a turn.’

 Neil frowned.  ‘What do either of us gain from that?’

 ‘A distraction.’

 Neil considered this.  All considered, it sounded like a better idea than sitting alone in his room with only his thoughts, or worse, dreams. And there was something heady in talking like this, without looking at anyone.  It felt like his words were floating away into the night.

 ‘Alright, a truth for a truth,’ he agreed.  ‘But I’ll go first.  Why are you in New York?’

 ‘This morning, someone that I know was admitted into the Lower Manhattan Hospital.  I came here to see him but I arrived too late; visiting hours were over already.’

‘Is it serious?’ Neil asked.

Andrew said nothing, but Neil supposed he wouldn’t have flown eight hundred miles to be here if the illness was trifling.

‘Why are you staying here?’ Andrew asked.

‘I’ve got nowhere else to go.  I come here so often I practically live here anyway,’ Neil said honestly.

They sat quietly for a while longer, until Andrew got up.  He kicked the cigarette butts off the balcony.  As he turned to the door, Neil called out, ‘Goodnight, Andrew.’

Andrew closed the door behind himself with more force than necessary, and Neil smiled.

 

***


	2. II A Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Neil has been living in New York and working as a Maid in The Foxhole Hotel for six months. His apartment is broken into and he is attacked and injured by someone he doesn't recognise. Neil isn't sure if they were breaking in to steal stuff or if they were sent by his father. Neil makes it into work after a very brief and unwilling hospital visit. At the end of the day, he can't face leaving just yet, and decides to break into and sleep in an empty hotel room. On the balcony of his room, he strikes up a conversation with the guest below: Andrew Minyard.  
> Andrew has flown to New York to visit someone who has been admitted into hospital in Manhattan.

**II**

**A Reunion**

 

Andrew was up before the sun, and dressed too.  His secretary had booked The Foxhole because of its proximity to Lower Manhattan Hospital, so it was about a ten minute walk once he left the hotel.

He sat drinking one coffee after another, watching the digital clock on the microwave in his kitchenette.  Visiting hours in the ICU began at ten.

Last night he’d let himself be diverted by the sharp-tonged stranger on the balcony above, and his enigmatic answers. ‘Nowhere else to go,’ he’d said.  Everything about the man had been a lie.  Andrew was sure of it.  But in that one moment Neil Johnson had seemed real. 

Today, the distraction was gone, and he’d gone back to replaying the phone call that had brought him to New York, again and again.

‘Say something, goddammit Andrew.  He’s in intensive care right now.  He can’t breathe, he’s coughing up blood, he might- he might-  He’s asking for you.’

At nine thirty, he left the hotel.  December wind ate into him the second he stepped outside.  He walked as slowly as he could bear down the middle of the sidewalk, and was rewarded by the sighs and muttered profanities of the impatient New Yorkers who elbowed their way past him.  A part of him wished that the hospital was further away, so he could kill some time behind the wheel of his car.

He reached the hospital too soon.  He went inside anyway, and sat down at an empty table in the café that was already busy.  He dug a hand into his pocket, and fumbled with numb fingers until he found his phone.  He placed it on the table and stared down at it.

When he had only ten minutes left before visiting time, he rang Aaron.

He only had the number because Aaron had called him a few days ago.  He wasn’t sure how long Aaron had had his number.  Nicky must have given it to him in a moment of optimism.  Nicky had never lost hope in fixing them, even after three years of total radio silence.

The call connected.

‘Andrew?,’ Aaron said incredulously.  ‘I’m working.  What do you want?’

The sound of his voice, that familiar tone of mingled resentment and shock, woke an anger deep in Andrew that he’d thought had guttered and died years ago.  He wanted to crush the phone.  How dare Aaron still have this effect on him, have any effect on him, after three years? 

‘Where is Nicky?’, he asked, excising all emotion from his voice.

‘What the fuck, Andrew?  He’s in the hospital.  He’s in my hospital.  I fucking told you already.’

‘Where in the hospital?’

‘What do you-‘

Andrew cut him off.  Sick of evasions, he said ‘I’m in the lobby.  How do I get to his ward?’

He heard a startled intake of breath.  The call disconnected.

Great.  Just great.  At least it was the final proof of what he’d been telling Nicky for years, every time he tried to coerce Andrew to visit Aaron with him: the last thing in the world Aaron wanted was for Andrew to show up in New York.

The woman at the assistance desk was glaring at him.  When he caught her eye, she motioned to the ‘NO MOBILE PHONES’ sign on the wall.  Andrew realised he was still holding his phone against his ear.  Andrew didn’t shift his gaze, and stared her down with his phone still at his ear until she flushed and looked down at the desk.  It made him feel a little better, but in hindsight, that was going to make it even more difficult to find Nicky.  It seemed like he was going to have to search the whole damn hospital himself.

‘Andrew?’

Andrew turned.  Aaron stood behind him, face uncertain, as if he hadn’t been quite sure it was Andrew from behind.  It had, after all, been a long time.  They no longer looked quite as identical as they once had.  While Andrew continued to train and lift and put on muscle, Aaron had lost most of what he’d built up at university, and his oversized scrubs only made him look smaller.  He looked soft.

‘Why didn’t you say you were coming?  How did you even get here so quickly?’

‘I flew in yesterday.  I got in after visiting hours.’

‘I’m doing my training here, I could have got you in. You should have called.’

Andrew’s teeth ground together.  Aaron seemed to sense he was on the edge, so with a slight shrug he turned and wove his way back through the crowded tables.

‘Are you coming or what?’ he threw back at Andrew.

Andrew was coming.

Nicky looked terrible.  Each breath was laboured, and his skin had a bluish tinge.  His eyes were shut, but his eyes moved feverishly under the lids.  He had a mask covering the lower part of his face attached to a machine by his bedside, and an drip in his arm, and yet another tube emerging from somewhere under the blankets.  Andrew took a sharp breath in. 

Aaron was still looking at him.  ‘He flew over to see me and Katlyn before Christmas.  He had a touch of flu when he arrived, but he brushed me off when I asked him about it.  It got bad really quickly, and on the second night he couldn’t breathe properly, so I brought him in.’

This wasn’t important.  Andrew needed to know what was happening now.  He needed to see something, anything, to show that they were helping Nicky.  Because it looked like they were killing him.  ‘Give me his notes.’

‘I can’t see his notes,’ Aaron said, sounding irritated, like he expected Andrew to give a shit about his medical protocols.  ‘Medical records are confidential.  He’s not my patient.’

‘Fuck you and fuck your hospital,’ Andrew said.  He wanted to hurt Aaron.  He wanted Aaron, for once in his life, to feel the same anger and pain that he felt, the same pain Nicky was feeling, for once in his selfish life for him to *feel*.

‘This isn’t my fault, Andrew-‘ Aaron cut himself off, and took in a slow breath.  ‘Because I’m family, and Nicky gave permission before he was delirious, they’re giving me updates.  He’s stable at the minute.  They’re trying a new mix of antibiotics today, so they’re waiting to see how they affect him.’

 

Andrew didn’t deign that worthy of a reply.  If he heard another word out of Aaron, he’d hit him, so he turned away and dropped down in the chair by Nicky’s bed.

‘My shift ends at midday.  I’ll be back then, will you- will you still be here?’

Andrew let the silence answer for him.

Aaron seemed finally to understand that he was not wanted, and turned, muttering  under his breath until he was out of earshot.

Andrew lent forward, braced his elbows on Nicky’s bed, and he waited.

 

***

 

Neil left the hotel room with fifteen minutes to spare.  He moved quickly but quietly, taking only corridors that he knew had no CCTV.  He worked his way over to above the entrance, and then took a tiny back staircase down to ground level.  He tried not to groan at the pull on his wound with every step downwards.  His stomach felt substantially worse this morning.  He’d have to get some more bandages today.  He checked through the glass panel and saw no one, so he slipped out and headed for the staffroom, from the direction he would normally have come.

He switched his ragged t-shirt and sweats for pressed trousers and a button down with the fox paw logo on the breast.  By the time he was changed, the others working his shift had trickled in, and were laughing and prepping on the benches around him. 

Dan, the assistant manager, came over, grinning at him.  ‘You’re a mess.  You look like you spent the night in someone else’s bed.  Come here,’ she said, pulling him in front of a mirror.  He winced a little at his reflection, but not because he was dishevelled.  Okay, his hair was a little mussed, and maybe he should have cut it a few weeks ago, but it wasn’t *that* bad.

‘See this?  This is a comb.  C-O-M-B.  Get yourself one,’ she instructed, waving it in front of Neil’s face.  She jabbed it into his hair and yanked.  Neil jerked away, and from the feel of it, left a chunk of his hair behind.

‘Jesus, Dan, are you trying to scalp me?’ Neil asked.

‘Sorry,’ Dan said, though her smirk said otherwise.  ‘You do it then.  But you’re not going where guests can see you till you sort out that bedhead.’

Allison sauntered over.  ‘You know, Dan, I really think you’re onto something.  No-one’s hair gets that messy sleeping alone.’

She turned to the group.  ‘Ten bucks say Neil’s found a girl.’

Matt jumped in.  ‘Done.  Ten bucks says Neil’s found a guy.’

Neil looked between them.  He could have told them that he’d been tossing all night from nightmares, but they didn’t need to know that.

‘I told you all already, I don’t –‘

‘-You don’t date,’ Allison finished.  It was pretty much Neil’s catchphrase.  He been asked at least once a day since he started at the Foxhole if he was seeing anyone.  The maids spent almost as much time gossiping as they did cleaning.  ‘Deny it all you like. We’ll find you out sooner or later.’

Neil gave up.  They could think what they wanted.

He loaded his trolley and took it to the fifth floor.  Halfway down the corridor, he saw a small group of guests heading his way.  He pulled quickly into an alcove at the side, and they passed him, talking loudly, without one glance in his direction.  That was another of the advantages of being a maid- it turned you invisible.  People looked right through you, like they wanted to imagine that their mess and dirt was cleared by magic, and not by a human being. 

He’d gotten through more than half of his allocation by his lunch break.  He headed down to the canteen, and grabbed a serve of unappealingly pasty mac’n’cheese.  He spotted Matt, his spiked hair distinctive even from across the canteen.  He didn’t know how Matt got away with such an unorthodox look when usually the dress code was pretty strict for maids- after all, he’d practically had his hair ripped out this morning.  He would’ve accused Dan of favouritism, since they were dating, but Dan wasn’t the sort to be swayed by sentiment. 

He wove over to the table, and dumped his tray next to Matt’s.  Before he could sit, he caught sight of Dan in the doorway, beckoning to- him.  His heart dropped. 

‘I’ve got it,’ Matt said. ‘Go see what Dan wants.’

Neil headed towards the door.  If he moved quickly, he could dodge past Dan, be in and out of the staffroom with his duffle and out of the hotel in two minutes flat.  In fifteen, he’d be out of New York City, and in an hour, the state. 

He thought of that morning, of Matt and Allison and Dan, teasing him, teasing each other.  Dan pulling the comb through his hair- roughly at first but then carefully, then dropping it into his bag.  Allison convincing him to get his hair cut at her mother’s salon, insisting that appointments for friends were free, and she would be privileged to cut hair as lovely as Neil’s anyway.   Matt, who’d kept a space next to him on his lunch break every day since Neil had started.

He stopped in front of Dan.

‘Is everything alright?,’ Neil asked.

‘We need to talk about something privately,’ Dan said, and lead him to her tiny office.

Neil was afraid that she would hear his heartbeat echoing off the walls.

‘You’ve worked at the Foxhole Hotel for six months now, Neil.  It might not seem like a long time, but we- the managers, myself and Wymack- have really been impressed.  We’re not the only ones, other staff have given you a lot of credit; always on time, never slacking, never getting involved in the petty politics.  I mean, trust me, if you decided to get involved with anyone, you could have had half the staff tearing strips off each other.’

The tension bled out of Neil, and he could breathe again.  Dan didn’t know he was sleeping in the hotel.  The relief was so strong that he didn’t mind that half of what Dan said was going was going over his head- he had no idea what she meant by “involved”.  Surely he was “involved” with her and the other maids that had befriended him?

‘Between you and me, Wymack is retiring.  I’m going to become the manager,’ Dan continued.

‘Congratulations, Dan, that’s amazing!’

Dan bit down on a smile.  ‘Thanks.  But that wasn’t what I wanted to say to you.  I’ll get to the point now:  you’re my nominee for replacement assistant manager.’

The walls pressed in on Neil.  ‘Your… what?’

‘You heard me.  Now go get your lunch.  Just don’t fuck up in the next week or so, and you’ll be on track to double your pay.  And become a real part of this place.’

Neil wanted to protest.  He couldn’t be assistant manager.  He was leaving, today, tomorrow, the next day.  He was dying a little, every day.  He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t be this.  He couldn’t have people depending on him like this. 

On a beach in California, three thousand miles away, his mother gasped and bled.  Her fingernails drew blood where they gripped his arm.  She said, ‘Trust no one.  Never look back.’

Neil’s grief was choking him.  He said something to Dan, or thought he did, and he left the hotel.

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments and kudos, they really make my day x


	3. III  Runaway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Neil has been living in New York and working as a Maid in The Foxhole Hotel for six months. After he is attacked by someone he doesn’t recognise in his apartment, he makes a very brief and unwilling hospital visit. Neil heads into work, then decided to break into and stay in one of the hotel rooms afterwards. The next day, Dan tells Neil privately that she is taking over as manager in Wymack’s place, and that she wants him to be her assistant manager. Neil freaks out and goes for a run.
> 
> Andrew has flown to New York because Nicky fell seriously ill while visiting Aaron and is now in hospital. He is staying at The Foxhole. The snarky guest above him is a surprisingly good distraction from worrying about Nicky boredom. He goes to see Nicky, surprising Aaron, who is doing his medical residency at the hospital. Aaron takes Andrew to Nicky’s beside and leaves him there.

**III**

**Runaway**

 

Aaron showed up only to leave, which was his signature move. 

His shift finished just as the visiting hours ended in intensive care.  He dodged around the nurse who was trying to shift the lingering visitors out of the ward, and made his way to Andrew and Nicky.  He stared down at Nicky, then shifted his gaze to Andrew.

‘Did anything happen?  Did he wake up?’

‘No.  His temperature had reduced by five degrees.’

Aaron made a disgruntled noise.  ‘It’s been dropping every day, but it rises back to the same level at night.’

The nurse stopped at the end of Nicky’s bed, and eyed them coldly.  ‘The ward visiting hours ended ten minutes ago.  I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave now.’

Andrew settled a little deeper in his chair.  Aaron glanced between Andrew and the annoyance, and said uncertainly, ‘Let’s go, Andrew, plea-‘

Aaron cut himself off sharply.

Andrew knew he had stiffened, albeit minutely.  Even after all these years, he still couldn’t control his reaction to- to that word.  But that had never stopped Aaron using it before, Aaron had never even seemed to notice before now.

Something about the exchange, the cut off word, the way Aaron was still _looking_ at him, was boiling Andrew’s blood.  If he hit Aaron, he would be thrown out of the hospital.  If he was thrown out of the hospital, he would not be able to check on Nicky.

Three years ago, he might have hit Aaron, damn the consequences. 

Now, Andrew stood and walked past Aaron, and off the ward.  Aaron, damn him, followed Andrew.

‘Andrew?  Where are you going?  I need to-‘

Andrew stopped dead.  Aaron ploughed into him and swore aloud.  They were alone in the corridor, so Andrew turned and asked, ‘Why did you stop?’

Aaron knew what he meant.  ‘Why didn’t I say pl- didn’t I say it?  I know you hate that word.  I lived with you for five years.  We shared a bedroom for five years.  Of course I fucking know you hate it.’

Andrew sucked a slow breath in.  ‘It has never stopped you from using it before.’

Aaron grimaced.  ‘To tell you the truth I… I used to use it more, on purpose.  As often as I could around you.  You never looked at me, Andrew!  Nothing I said, nothing I did, ever touched you.  But that word always got to you, and it made me feel better even if you hated me more.’  Aaron’s voice distorted around the word.  Hated.

‘Nothing could have made me hate you more,’ Andrew said, and watched Aaron go pale.  Take his words the wrong way, as he always did.

Aaron clenched his hand at his sides, and his knuckles went white with the force.  Andrew waited for him to leave, just leave, just leave.  But then Aaron slowly, deliberately uncurled his hands, and let them hang loosely at his sides.

‘The first thing you ever said to me was fuck off.  Are we ever going to get past that?  Are you ever going to want me in your life?  Just tell me, just say because I’m too tired to try and work it out anymore. 

I thought, after college finished, that maybe I’d never see you again.  I thought that maybe that was the best thing, after everything, but I still thought about you.  Did you.  Did you even- ?’

‘What I said did not matter.  You would have left anyway,’ Andrew reminded him.

‘Andrew.  Andrew, I-‘

Andrew was not doing this.  Not here, not now, not this. 

‘Where is Erik?’ he asked.

Aaron let out a sharp breath of frustration.  ‘The fuck does Erik have to do with any of this?’  When Andrew just stared, he swore under his breath.  ‘Erik is in Germany.’

‘Why is he not here?’

‘Why would he be here?  He’s not family.  He’s not even dating Nicky.  They had a fight, they’re on a break.  Nicky didn’t say anything else about it.’

‘He does not know.’

‘That Nicky’s in hospital?  How should I know?,’ Aaron said indifferently.  ‘I guess not.’

‘Do you have his number?,’ Andrew asked.

‘Yeah.’  Andrew waited.  ‘What?  You want his number?  What for?  Whatever.  I’ll text it to you, okay?’

It was strange to contemplate Aaron texting him.  Communicating, even when they couldn’t see each other, when it was surplus to requirements, when it was more than just getting what he needed from Andrew. 

Andrew, finished with the conversation, continued down the corridor.  After staring after him for a minute, Aaron jogged to catch up and fell in pace beside him. 

The exited the hospital- if not together, then at least next to one another.  Andrew didn’t know if Aaron was really headed the same way as him, or he’d merely reverted to the old habit of following Andrew.  In Tilda’s house he’d trailed him from room to room, upstairs and down- because Tilda didn’t hit Aaron when Andrew was in the room.  Not after the first time.  After Tilda, he’d followed Andrew with his eyes.  Whenever Andrew looked round, he’d found that bitter, accusatory gaze, tracking him relentlessly. 

Huge tinsel banners, displaying green and red stars, had been suspended across the street, looping over the confusion of traffic and pedestrians and shop windows.  It was five pm, but dark enough that the little lights in the tinsel could be seen. 

It was, Andrew felt, the worst possible time of year to be in New York.  The sidewalk was flooded with tourists, huge shopping bags on their arms.  Every time an elbow knocked against his, every brush and scrape, made his hands twitch.  He buried them in his coat pockets, and hunched down inside the hood, trying to silently convey the impression that the next person to wish him happy holidays could expect a knife in the gut.

There was a momentary gap in the crowd- and then someone was slamming into Aaron.

Andrew swung round, one hand already in his sleeve, fingers brushing metal-

But Aaron was unhurt.

The stranger stumbled back a step, cursing.  The man had come careening out of nowhere, running full tilt down the street.  He didn’t seem have gathered that one of the busiest streets in New York, with less than a fortnight to Christmas, just *might* not be the best place to go for a jog.

‘I’m sorry,’ the man muttered belatedly, without so much as meeting Aaron’s eye.  His overlong dark hair stuck to his sweat-streaked neck, and his chest moved visibly with each short breath.  It was highly unreasonable that he should look attractive.

He stepped forward, moving past Aaron, but Aaron suddenly, inexplicably, grabbed his arm.  He saw, in an instant, that tensing that came before a blow, intimately familiar to him.  Andrew moved. 

He was too slow.  The man drove his elbow into Aaron’s solar plexus.

In a heartbeat, he had the attacker's arm twisted up behind his back, and his knees slamming down on the sidewalk.  The man jerked, harder than Andrew had expected, almost dislocating his own arm and seeming not to care- but then stopped.

‘Andrew Minyard?’, he said incredulously.

He was looking at Aaron.  Aaron looked between Andrew and the stranger, and asked with equal incredulity, ‘You know Andrew?’

The stranger, following Aaron’s look, twisted upwards, and this time Andrew allowed it.  Now he’d heard the voice, which had made more of an impression than the half-seen slender body and dark hair, he put it together.  It was Neil Johnson, the man in the room above him, who he’d talked to last night.

‘This guy was on my ward, night before last.  He had a stab wound to stomach, but he pulled a runner that same night,’ Aaron said.

‘I didn’t need your help.  I can sew up a cut in the same time it takes you to find a needle.  Now get the fuck off me,’ he said to Andrew.  Andrew considered for a moment, then released him from the hold.  No knives, no blood, but effectively subdued.  Renee would have been proud.  Neil Johnson sprang to his feet.

There was a small crowd around them that Andrew had not noticed.  Neil flashed a look around at them, then elbowed his way out.  On his way past, he smacked a mobile out of the hands of some moron who’d decided to film the incident.  Andrew heard the crunch as it hit the sidewalk.  The owner gave a little cry and dropped down to pick up the pieces.  Andrew didn’t know why he bothered, it was clearly beyond repair.

After that, no one tried to follow him.  He walked away into the night.

Aaron was still staring after him, so Andrew took him by the arm and pulled him away from the exclaiming crowd.  They walked for a few minutes, then Aaron stopped, and turned into an alley.  Andrew followed.

‘How the hell do you know that guy?’ Aaron asked.

‘Why was he in hospital?’ Andrew returned.

They had a brief staring match, which Aaron lost.

‘He came in about two AM night before last, with a nasty stab wound on his stomach, brought in by ambulance, mostly unconscious, from shock or blood loss.  The wound was cleaned and stitched up, hadn’t hit anything vital.  He was admitted onto my ward about three AM, but when a nurse came to check on him a few minutes later, he’d booked it.

He shouldn’t have been walking, and we didn’t think he’d got far, so a bunch of us checked the wards nearby. 

We’re obligated to notify the police of any violent knife crime, and they usually try and get a statement.  They arrived just as we decided he must have left the hospital altogether- which was weird because the he wasn’t on any of the CCTV, but all the unmonitored doors are kept locked.  The cops had this weird kind of- excitement, I guess?  They were excited to see this guy.  They were pretty upset when they found out he’d pulled a runner.’

‘Did they say anything?’, Andrew asked.  Even though his mind was racing, his voice was blank and disinterested.  It was a skill learnt long ago, when vulnerability only brought more pain.  When emotion was a trap: his happiness an affront, fear or anger an invite.

‘They asked us to call them straight away if we saw him again, and gave us a special tip line.  They said they were looking for him in connection with the stabbing, but one of them said something else- something about missing persons.’

Missing persons.  How interesting, interesting and alarming.  Interesting _therefore_ alarming.

‘How do you know him?’, Aaron asked.

Andrew didn’t answer.

‘Andrew, come on!  Do you know where he’s hiding out?  Because we need to tell the police.  I’ve got the tipline saved on my phone-‘

‘We are not going to call the cops.’ Andrew told him.  ‘You are going to forget you saw him.  I will deal with this.’

‘What the fuck, Andrew?  Who is this guy?  What is he to you?’

‘He is nothing,’ Andrew said with perfect honesty. 

 

***

 

Neil forced himself to a stop, one street over from The Foxhole.  He leant over, and braced his hands on his knees, until his heart stopped trying to burst out his chest.  The air seared his throat and froze in his lungs.  He let the feelings wash over him, drown him in sensations; toes numb, ears burning, veins sizzling.  He was here, he was now.

Then he straightened, and walked the last block at an easy pace.

He didn’t know the time, but at least two hours had passed since he left the Foxhole.  He’d have to apologise to Dan, and promise to make the hour up tomorrow.

He had another reason that tomorrow, the tomorrow with Dan and Matt and Allison and all the other maids, couldn’t exist.  Now Andrew knew exactly what he looked like.  If he saw him in the hotel while he was working, he would surely realise that Neil was not a guest, was breaking into the hotel room to sleep.

But today shouldn’t have happened.  Neil, in every other parallel universe where he was still alive, spent today running, hiding, afraid.  Instead, he spent it with his friends.  He been living on borrowed time for weeks, for months, since he stopped in New York, and these had been the best months of his life.

Neil pushed open the revolving door at the front of the Foxhole, and waving to a harried looking Matt, who looked like he had his hands full with an irate elderly couple, headed down to the staffroom.

He stalled for a moment outside Dan’s door before working up the nerve to face her again after her offer, and after his freak-out.  The decision was made for him when the door swung open, forcing him to jump back, and Dan walked out.

‘I’m sorry I overran my break,’ Neil rushed out.  ‘I’ll make it up to you.’

‘That’s okay, Neil.  But if I’d known offering you a promotion would have literally sent you running from the room, and the whole hotel, I would have waited to the end of the day.’  Dan tried to keep her serious expression, but a smile, equal parts impish and evil, broke through.  It was a smile that spelled trouble for Neil.

‘But as it happens,’ she said,’ there is something you could do for me.  Melissa’s room-‘

Neil groaned quietly.

‘-Melissa’s room,’ Dan continued inexorably, ‘needs cleaning.  And no one else wants to do it, so you’re gonna take one for the team.’

Neil turned and slumped away down the corridor.  Behind him, Dan laughed, and called, ‘And your up-coming promotion still stands, by the way.’

Despite being a minor celebrity and a regular as well, Melissa was not popular with the staff.  Quite the reverse, in fact.  She never tipped, but nevertheless treated every maid like her personal errand runner.  And her room…

Neil surveyed her room.

The sheets were dumped on the floor next to the bed.  Clothes were strung over every possible surface.  There was a large mark on the carpet that looked like red wine to Neil’s experienced eye.  The little bin was empty, but there were a few packets crumpled in the corner of the room.  And that was just the bedroom.  The only good thing was Melissa’s absence, but she’d likely be returning soon, so he’d really better get on with it.

Cursing Dan, Neil got to work.  The main room took about half an hour to clean, and then he moved onto the bathroom.  He sprayed the shower walls and toilet, and left the cleaner on to work for a few minute while he cleaned the mirrors and cabinets.  It was a trick Allison had taught him; you let the cleaners do the work for you, and when you washed them off, you only had to scrub half as much.

He was just finishing up when he heard the latch click, and mumbled a curse under his breath. 

‘Hello?  Housekeeping?,’ Melissa called.

‘In here,’ Neil answered.

Melissa appeared in the doorway.  Neil stuffed the last of his cloths into the trolley, and said quickly, ‘I’m done now, so I’ll be out of your way in just a –‘

‘Oh, that’s fine, don’t worry about it,’ Melissa interrupted.  Here it comes, Neil thought.  ‘Actually, could you do something for me?’

It was a pure force of will that kept his eyes from rolling. 

‘I could call someone up, but I actually have to-‘

‘Oh, it won’t take a moment,’ Mellissa interrupted, again.  ‘Could I just get your opinion?’  Without waiting for Neil’s reply, she grabbed his wrist, and tugged him out into the bedroom.  Melissa liked to phrase her demands as questions, but didn’t go so far as to listen to people’s answers.  Melissa picked up a hanger off the bed, and held the garment up against her body. 

‘This one? Or-‘ she held a different one up, a red dress,’- or this one?’

Neil blinked at her. 

‘They both… they both look nice?,’ he attempted.

Melissa’s blinked rapidly, like she had something in her eye.  Maybe Neil had been a bit too vigorous while dusting- but his eyes were fine. 

‘It’s sweet of you to say,’ she said, smiling even wider,’ but which looks better?’ 

Why the hell was she asking him?  Neil knew nothing about fashion, and cared less.  Dan had told him a few times what Melissa was famous for, it was dance or modelling or something- whatever it was, he was sure it qualified her far better to evaluate her wardrobe than a hotel maid.

‘I mean, if we met somewhere else, would you prefer to see me in this or this?,’ Melissa asked.

‘They both look fine,’ Neil said stubbornly. 

‘Okay, I guess I’ll keep this one then,’ she said, jiggling the red dress.  ‘Now could you just pop down to reception and ask them to have it returned?  The receipt is in the pocket.’

Neil grabbed the dress she pushed against his chest, and then followed her to the door.  She open it for him, and snagged his arm as he stepped past her.

‘Thank you so much,’ she gushed, leaning in too close, squeezing his arm a little. 

Neil stood there awkwardly for a moment, hating the way he could feel her hand through the thin fabric of his shirt, hating her breath on his face.  He dropped his gaze to her hand, and she finally let go.  He took a quick step forward, and drew a breath with his back to her before pivoting to tell her, with a fake smile, ‘I’ll be back to move the trolley in just a minute.’

She nodded, and closed the door behind herself.

At the sound of a half-suppressed laugh, Neil spun and saw Allison behind him, grinning.

'She’s really laying it on thick.  Should I be concerned?’  Allison’s smile faded as she took in Neil’s blank expression.  ‘Neil?  Is she too much?  Because you can tell Dan and Wymack, they’ll make sure you don’t have to-‘

‘What are you talking about?  Too much of what?,’ Neil asked, perplexed.

Now Allison looked blank.  ‘Uh.  Too much hitting on you?’

‘Of course she didn’t hit me.’

‘No, Neil.  Really?  Hitting on, as in flirting with you.’

Neil frowned.  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.  She wasn’t flirting with me.’

‘Okay, prove me wrong.  What did she ask you to do?’

‘Just to return this.  And, uh, which outfit out of this and another one I thought looked better.’

Allison let out a crack of laughter.  ‘Oh my god, Neil, she was flirting with you.’

Neil waved her off, and jogged down to reception to drop off the unwanted clothes.  The grin Matt shot him said Dan had let him in on her little joke, so Neil didn’t wait to be mocked before heading straight back to grab his trolley.

He finished his other two rooms in double quick time, and in the end he only finished his shift half an hour late.  While he changed out of his uniform, he tried to figure out if he should return to room 128, where he slept in last night.

On the one hand, it was ideally placed.  There was a pretty direct but virtually unused route from room 128 to the staffroom.  Additionally, there was no CCTV in the corridor outside.

On the other hand, Andrew knew it was his room.  Andrew, who had seen him clearly, whose brother seemed to know Neil somehow, who had caught his arm and slammed him to the ground with a practised ease that spoke of a trained fighter. Andrew, who he should do anything in his power to avoid.

Yet a part of him was seething, relieving again and again the moment Andrew had caught him, calculating a hundred different ways Neil could have broken the hold.  A part of him was revving for a rematch.  It was a feeling he hadn’t had in years, that he’d thought had been beaten out of him.

Maybe, Neil reasoned, this was a problem best faced head on.  Whatever Andrew intended to do or not do, he had to know, and the only way to find out was to ask.

So he went up to room 128, picked the lock and crossed straight to the balcony.  He dropped down on the icy stone, kicking his legs in the bitterly cold air.

And he waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just worked out a plot detail that had been bothering me in a later chapter! It's hard to avoid plot holes when I can't go back and change what happened earlier. I guess I should have finished this before I started posting, but I needed the motivation to keep going- which all the amazing comment and kudos is doing :) Thanks for reading!


	4. IV A Cheap Threat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Neil has been living in New York and working as a Maid in The Foxhole Hotel for six months. After being attacked at his apartment by persons unknown and briefly hospitalised, he decides to squat in one of the empty hotel rooms. 
> 
> Andrew has abandoned his pro team and flown to New York because Nicky fell seriously ill while visiting Aaron and is now in hospital. At his hotel, the Foxhole, he finds the snarky guest above him is a surprisingly good distraction. He goes to see Nicky, surprising Aaron, who is doing his medical residency at the hospital. Andrew discovers that Erik doesn’t know that Nicky is in hospital, he extracts his phone number from Aaron. The twins leave the hospital together.
> 
> Outside, they bumps into the Neil who is running. Aaron recognises a runaway patient, and tells Andrew about Neil’s hospital visit, and that the police are trying to find him. Neil is panicked by the encounter but decides to stay anyway.
> 
> There's a tiny bit of German; 'Guten tag, wer da?' which translates as 'Hello, who is this?'

**IV**

**A Cheap Threat**

 

Andrew powered in his phone as he let himself into his room.  Immediately, a series of texts from Kevin popped up.  He opened them and scrolled to the bottom to get rid of the notification, barely bothering to skim read.

The first text, from three days ago, demanded to know why Andrew was late to morning training.  After that the tone was increasingly irate.  At some point, Kevin must have heard the press release that Andrew was away on personal business in New York, because he wasted a few hundred characters telling Andrew why his training was far more important than any ridiculous family issues that would sort themselves out if he just came back already.  All this was interspersed with scattered demands for Andrew to stop ignoring him, and to tell him where he was.

The other notifications were a few messages and a voicemail from his coach that he didn’t bother to open, and a text from Aaron that was just a phone number.

It would be the middle of the night in Germany, but Andrew didn’t think Erik would mind.

He dialled the number, and lit a cigarette.  As it rang, he walked over to the glass door, and let himself out onto the balcony.  Neil Johnson’s long legs hung down from above, but Andrew ignored them.

The phone clicked.  A bleary voice muttered a German expletive.  ‘Klose. Guten Tag.  Wer da?’

‘Andrew Minyard.’  The line crackled, and he swore again but distantly this time, which suggested he’d dropped the phone.  A moment later he was back.

‘Is Nicky there?  Is he okay?  What has happened?’

Andrew didn’t believe in breaking bad news gently.  ‘He’s in hospital with pneumonia and secondary respiratory failure.  He was admitted three days ago.  He is unresponsive, but he does not currently seem to be getting any worse.’

There was a few moments of silence.

'We.  We argued before he left. I told him that he shouldn't go, that you and your brother only ever hurt him.  I told him that-  he said he would never give up.

When he didn't answer my messages I though he was still angry, but then I called and his phone was dead, and it had been a week since we last spoke, and I thought maybe he-

I couldn’t stop thinking he-‘

Andrew understood. 

It had been two years since Nicky’s last depressive episode, and far longer since he’d thought about suicide- or at least, since he’d vocalised thought about suicide, wherein lay the problem.  Andrew knew better than most what storms could hide under a calm exterior.  Although Nicky’s indiscretion made him seem transparent, he was far better at hiding his feelings than most people expected.   Living a lie every hour of his life for years under the scrutiny of abusive parents had taught him more than he let on, and none of it good.

‘Will you come?’ Andrew asked.

Erik gave a startled half laugh.  ‘Yes, yes, I will come as soon as-  I will look up flight straight away.  I need to go.  Please call me straight away if there are any changes.’

Andrew promised he would, and then hung up so Erik could organise his journey.  The very second he ended the call, another came through.  It was his coach.  Andrew took a moment to regret turning on his phone, and then answered.

‘What do you want?’

‘Andrew?  Why has your phone been off?  Why haven’t you answered any of my-‘

Andrew cut him off.  ‘I think you must have misunderstood me when I told you I was taking personal leave.  To clarify, what I meant was, you, Kevin, the rest of the team and every exy-related aspect of my life can fuck off.’

His coach let out a long breath. 

‘As a professional athlete, _every_ aspect of your life is exy-related, one way or another,’ his coach said in the carefully emotionless tone he used when he was restraining himself from yelling.  ‘However, if you will do one thing, I promise I will not attempt to contact you until your personal stuff is dealt with.’

‘After this phone call, I will immediately switch my phone off again,’ Andrew reminded the man, unimpressed with his offer.

‘Just one thing, Minyard, just one little thing and I’ll get off your back.  If you can’t do this for me… I might just slip and accidently tell Kevin where you’re staying.  And we both know he’s anxious to pay you a visit.’

‘Are you threatening me?,’ asked  Andrew, almost entertained by this development.

 

‘Is it working?,’ his coach said.

Andrew made a disparaging noise, but in truth, he really wasn’t in the mood to risk Kevin coming up to hassle him.  ‘You’re playing a risky game, coach.  Currently you’re down one player.  Send Kevin up here and you might lose another, permanently.’

‘You wouldn’t hurt Kevin,’ he answered, sounding much too sure of himself.   ‘Look, have you heard of the shooting stars Christmas ball?  It’s this huge annual charity event, invitation only.  One of the biggest events in New York all winter.’

Andrew did _not_ like where this was going.

‘The press got hold of the fact you’re in New York, so someone thought to send the PR team a ticket for you.’

‘And?’ Andrew asked.

‘And it would really help your bad image to go and be social at this thing- it’s charity and it’s Christmas.  Very humanising.  Also, there’s a lot of speculation going around as your goddamn fans keep claiming to have seen you in other cities, starting speculation that you’re actually visiting another team in preparation to switch after Christmas.  Basically, it would just shut everyone up for a while if you go to the damn thing.’

Andrew sighed.  ‘What is the minimum time I could go for?’

‘Well, it starts at eight and ends at around one.  If it was anyone else, I’d tell them to stick it out but the fewer people that actually get to meet you the better, so turn up at ten and leave at midnight.’

Andrew bared his teeth in an approximation of a smile.  ‘What are you suggesting?  Don’t you think I’m likeable?’

‘No comment.  It’s on the 18th, so be there and-‘

Andrew hung up.

A dark-haired head popped over the edge of the balcony above.  ‘Who was that?’

Andrew tapped his cigarette on the edge of the balcony, and watched the glowing ash fall.  He opened his phone again, and played the voicemail from his coach on speakerphone, loud enough for Neil to hear.

Halfway through the recording, Neil started to chuckle.  Andrew looked up at him incredulously.  He could hardly make out his face in the faint light reflected from the streetlamps below, but the sight sent a tiny, furtive thrill through him.

‘That sounds like hell on earth.  Are you really going to go?,’ Neil asked.

Andrew didn’t reply, because he didn’t know himself.  Two hours of his life was not a huge sacrifice to keep Kevin out of his face and his coach satisfied.  In reality, the man asked very little of him, and had never pushed Andrew to do any publicity that he was uncomfortable with, without demanding an explanation.   On the other hand, as Neil had said: hell on earth.

‘All those self-obsessed celebrities, congratulating each other on their philanthropy- you’ll fit right in.’

‘I have recently been advised to “recover my reputation”,’ Andrew quoted.

Neil smirked.  ‘Should’ve just given me that cigarette.  Ha, I can’t believe you’re going to that ego-fest.  It’s going to be so awful.’

‘If I gave you that cigarette now, would you shut the hell up?,’ Andrew asked, unamused by his mocking tone.

‘Sorry, it’s just not worth it.  I’m having too much fun,’ the idiot threw back.  ‘You know my plans for the 18th?  I’m thinking I’ll stay in my hotel room, where absolutely no one will bother me.  Maybe watch some TV.  Hey, maybe I’ll watch the coverage of the ball; see if I can spot you having the worst night of your life.’

‘I imagine you intended to mock me, but you’ve only succeeded in revealing how sad your life is, if that is how you choose to spend your nights,’ Andrew pointed out.  Neil laughed again, but didn’t reply.  They were both silent for a long while, until Neil asked:

‘Have you told anyone?’

Andrew was tempted to take his turn needling Neil and leave him hanging for a little longer but somehow the undercurrent of real fear in Neil’s voice had killed the fun.  ‘I have not.’

‘Yet,’ Neil said, voicing what Andrew had left unspoken.  ‘Please,’ Andrew grit his teeth, ‘don’t say anything.  If they ask, if your brother asks, just say you don’t know me, just say you don’t know.’

‘I will not lie.’

‘Andrew.  I can’t be found, I can’t- I’ll do anything,’ Neil said desperately.

Cigarette smoke hadn’t made him sick since he was a teenager, but now Andrew’s stomach was roiling unpleasantly, the faint nausea enough to set his hands shaking.  He plucked the cigarette from his mouth before grinding it out on the concrete, then jammed his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie.

‘If you want me to lie for you, it will cost you,’ he said.  ‘Will you make a deal with me?’

‘Anything,’ Neil said again.

Andrew considered- and suddenly, the perfect revenge for all of Neil’s little witticisms struck him.  ‘You will come to the Shooting Stars Christmas Ball.’

Well, that shut his smart mouth up.  For a moment, at least.

‘You want… what?  No.  No, what? It’ll be _awful_.’

‘Suddenly this whole event seems like a better idea,’ Andrew mused aloud.  ‘Watching you squirm is going make the evening fly by.’

Neil was groaning and protesting above him, but weakly.  ‘What’s the point of you keeping the secret if you’re going to parade me in front of a bunch of cameras?’

‘You are not a celebrity.  Neither the police nor my brother will be looking for you at the ball.’

Neil pouted and whined ridiculously, but his voice had lost its edge of urgency.  Andrew’s stomach settled.

‘Did you get to see your friend at the Lower Manhattan?,’ Neil asked.

‘Cousin.  I saw him,’ Andrew said. 

‘Was it him you were talking on the phone about when you came out?  “Pneumonia and secondary respiratory failure”?’

‘Yes.’

Andrew smoked in silence.  After a while, he took out another cigarette and flicked it up at Neil.  The man made a soft noise that could have been a thank-you, but Andrew chose to interpret as offence.  After all, he’d only done it because Neil’s presence was irritating him and the cigarette was the nearest projectile to hand.

 

***

 

With Andrew’s assurance, Neil stopped worrying.  It was illogical, he knew; Andrew was only one man.  Just because he would keep Neil’s secret didn’t prevent other people from finding out.

Yet he felt safe.  Every night, out on the balcony, he would fill his lungs with second hand smoke and Andrew’s low, toneless voice.  He let it drown out his mother’s voice in his head, the thoughts that told him to run and run and run.  He let Andrew make him feel safe, and he let himself stay.

Since talking to him about the promotion, Dan had given him of her duties, writing up schedules and assigning shifts.  He didn’t feel good about letting her believe he would be here to take over from her, letting her waste her time training him, but there was no way to tell her the truth.  On the bright side, being in control of shifts meant that he’d been able to avoid Mellissa entirely since cleaning her room the week before.

Others had not been so fortunate.

Allison stormed into the staff room and slammed the door behind herself.  ‘I have cleaned that witch’s room _twice this week_.  Send me in there again and one of us will die.  No, who am I kidding?  She will die.’

Neil considered this.  ‘Well, it would definitely get people talking about The Foxhole.  Maid murders guest is probably front page material.’

‘We don’t want to be in the news for murder, Neil,’ Dan said.

‘I thought all publicity was good publicity?,’ Neil replied.

‘Is he kidding?  Matt, is he kidding?’, Dan asked.

Matt closed his locker, and peered at Neil.  ‘Uh…’

Allison started to laugh beside him.  ‘Seriously?  Have you not covered the anti-murder policy yet in your manager training?’  Matt choked, and even Dan’s lips twitched at that.

 Neil huffed and folded his arms.  ‘Of course I’m kidding.  Guys.  Stop.  Guys, I said I was kidding!’

He watched his co-workers literally falling over each other laughing, and wondered how people in their late twenties could have the mental capacity of four year olds.

Matt eventually recovered enough to say, ‘I’d still rather deal with Mellissa than Mr Minyard.’

‘That guy gives me the creeps,’ Allison agreed.  ‘Seriously, last week I had to take the main lift with a trolley when I was rushing, and I ended up squashed in right next to him.  I thought he was going to murder me on the way down.’

‘I don’t know how you could say you prefer Mellissa to Mr Minyard,’ Neil broke in, nonplussed.  ‘His room is spotless, and you always know when he’ll be out.’

‘Looks like Neil has a soft spot for _the monster_ ,’ Dan chuckled.  ‘At least that should save the rest of us from cleaning his room, right?’

Neil’s stomach dropped.  He didn’t answer, and hoped fervently that Dan would forget about it before he made the next cleaning rota.

Dan and Matt left to do some last minute Christmas shopping in their break.  When Allison went to follow them, Neil silently gestured at her to stay, and waited until Dan and Matt were out of earshot before speaking.

‘I need your advice, and I need you to keep it a secret.’

Allison looked intrigued.  ‘I’m listening.’

 ‘Have you heard of the Shooting Stars-‘

‘-Christmas Ball?,’ Allison finished.  ‘Of course I have!  It’s only the biggest Christmas event in New York.  Everyone will be there- well, everyone who’s anyone.’

‘What do they wear?,’ Neil asked abruptly.

‘Um- they get pretty fancy?  Ball gowns and tuxedos?’

Neil groaned.  There was no way he could show up in his ancient greying jeans and not stand out.  His uniform at least had black slacks and a shirt, but his were worn and fraying.  Dan had tried to persuade him to request a new uniform for ages, but he liked how soft the old fabric was and had refused.  Now he was regretting that.

‘Wait.  Neil.  Are you trying to tell me that you’re going to Shooting Stars?’

‘No!,’ Neil said immediately.  ‘Well.  Maybe.  Kind of.’

‘You’re “ _kind of”_ going to Shooting Stars?’

‘Yeah.  I guess I’m going.  Under duress.’

Allison blinked at him.  ‘No offence, but how are _you_ going?’

‘I’m going with someone else, and no, it’s not a date already.  We’re- friends.’  That was somewhat of an exaggeration, but it was easier than explaining whatever was going on between him and Andrew.

‘And, let me guess, I’m not allowed to know who?  Ugh, fine, keep your little secrets.  I’ll find out soon enough from the paparazzi.’

Neil grimaced, and hoped she was wrong.  He could never imagine anyone connected to his Father watching anything so inane as coverage of a celebrity Christmas party, but it still made him nauseous to think of his face on all those screens.

‘You’ve got a good figure, even if you do try to drown it in crappy oversized shapeless shit,’ Allison said.  ‘And I would kill for that bone structure.  With some decent clothes you wouldn’t be entirely awful to look at.’

‘Okay,’ Neil said quickly, recognising the gleam in Allison’s eyes ‘Thanks Allison I’ll just go-‘

‘Nu-uh, Josten!  If you want me to keep this out of Dan and Matt’s hands, you’ll have to give me something for my silence… such as choosing your outfit.’

‘It really doesn’t matter to me what I wear, I just don’t want to stick out.  And I don’t want to waste money on an outfit I’ll never wear again.’

Allison held up three fingers, and ticked her arguments off as she went.  ‘Firstly, it may not matter to you what you wear, but it matters very much to me.  Secondly, if you choose your outfit, without my help, you will definitely stick out.  Thirdly, you will definitely need a tux again.  I don’t think I’ve actually ever seen you spend money, but if the cost is worrying you then I would consider my money well spent on a tux for you.’

‘I have money,’ Neil admitted.

‘Well, in that case there can be no objection,’ Allison grinned.  ‘Wait for me here when you’ve finished your shift, and we’ll have you sorted before the night’s over.’

But he found Allison already waiting for him at the end of the day.  He would’ve been offended that she didn’t trust him, except that he been half intending to leave as quickly as possible, ‘forgetting’ their plans.

The sun had gone down hours ago, and it would be well below freezing outside.  Neil’s wardrobe was not equipped for this kind of cold weather. Neil pulled his older hoodie- still bloodstained, despite his best efforts- on underneath a second.  It’d had taken him a long time to adjust after he’d been in the southern states for a few years, but he was used to being cold now.

They left together.  They’d only gone a few streets before Neil started shivering.  He’d thought he had it under control, but Allison must have noticed because she took his arm in hers, pulling him close to her side so he could leach some of her body heat.

Even though Neil was less than excited at the prospect of trying on suit after suit for Allison’s amusement, walking arm in arm, letting her endless stream of gossip and sharp comments wash over him, felt good in a way he couldn’t have imagined before he met the “foxes”.

Naturally, it took Allison several hours to find an outfit that she was satisfied with, and another hour to find one that Neil would agree to wear.  Somehow, Neil didn’t believe Allison’s protest that ‘electric blue is totally in and you’ll blend in fine!’.  Eventually they settled with a midnight blue tuxedo that was slightly less startling. 

Allison tried to convince him to go out to dinner with her, but Neil declined.  He was exhausted, not by the endless walking or Allison’s chatter but the feel of eyes on him, the need to look over his shoulder every few seconds, the need to seek out exits and escape routes from every shop he walked into.  It was a feeling that only really went away when he was inside the foxhole.  And besides, if he stayed out much longer he’d miss Andrew altogether.

Neil stopped short at the thought.  Since when had he been worried about missing Andrew?  When had this become something he looked forward to, something he even depended on?

‘Um, Neil?  Anyone there?’  Allison poked him.  He brushed her hand off, and realised he’d stopped walking. 

‘Sorry, what did you say,’ Neil asked.

‘Just asked you what you were thinking about so hard… hey, I bet it’s your date!’

‘No, it’s not, he’s not even-‘

‘-And I bet that’s why you won’t get dinner with me!  You’re seeing them tonight, aren’t you?’, Allison interrupted.  ‘Wait, what did you just say?’

‘I didn’t.  You interrupted me,’ Neil pointed out.

‘No, no,- “he’s not even-“.  Godammit, “he”.  Matt was right, the bastard, he wins he bet on you orientation.’

‘But you’ve promised me that you won’t tell anyone about this,’ Neil said suggestively,’ I don’t think it would be fair to me if you let him find out he’s won.’

Allison grinned at him.  ‘Damn straight, Josten.  I’d never betray you like that.’

They parted ways at the subway, but Neil only walked down and looped around the station before coming back up and heading to the foxhole.  He loitered for a moment outside, and followed a large group of businessmen into the hotel.  He used them as camouflage to get through the lobby, then peeled off and headed up the old staircase to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies, thanks for reading! A couple of people have let me know that they've subscribed and that it just.. wow it just makes me so happy! Let me know what you think, I'd love to hear it :D


	5. V Talking to a Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Neil is living in New York and working as a Maid in The Foxhole Hotel. After being attacked at his apartment he decides to squat in one of the empty hotel rooms.  
> Andrew has abandoned his pro team and flown to New York because Nicky is in hospital. At his hotel, the Foxhole, he finds the snarky guest above him (who introduces themselves as Neil Johnson) is a surprisingly good distraction.  
> Andrew discovers Neil is squatting in the hotel and hiding from his father, a gang leader, and the police. He agrees to cover for Neil on the condition that Neil goes with him to The Shooting Stars Ball.

**V**

**Talking to a Ghost**

The annoyance was late.

Andrew had been on out on the balcony for almost an hour.  Typically, the man was late on the one night Andrew had something he _particularly_ wanted to discuss.  Someone had not been playing by the rules of their little truth game.

He wasn’t waiting for Neil, though.  He’d just happened to feel like a smoke at nine, which happened to be the time that Neil usually came out, and hadn’t felt like going back inside after.  That was all.

Andrew grimaced, and wondered what Bee would say if he rang her up and told her about… this.  Whatever this was.  Actually, he could imagine exactly what she would say, down to her tone of subtle disapproval: ‘Are you being honest with yourself, Andrew?’

At least that was better than whatever sappy Christian shit Renee would come out with.

There was a scuffling noise above, and then the click of the door, as Neil came out onto his balcony.  A head peeked over the balcony, and he broke into a slight smile upon seeing Andrew.

‘Hey,’ Neil said.

Andrew didn’t dignify that with a response.  In fact, now that Neil was here, that anger that had been simmering all day had been replaced by a dull, empty ache that swallowed up the words he had wanted to say.

‘Andrew…?  Are you- is something wrong?’

He breathed out slowly.  ‘A truth for a truth, that was what we said, no?’

‘Uh… yes.’

‘You told me you were staying here.’

‘I- I did.  Say that,’ Neil said, a hint of discomfort in his voice, ‘and- it’s true.  I am staying here.’

‘But the hotel management are not aware of this.  You are, in fact, squatting,’ Andrew said.

‘Yes,’ Neil admitted.  ‘But you already knew I wasn’t telling you everything.  You heard Aaron, so don’t tell me that you’re surprised.  I didn’t lie to you- I just didn’t tell you everything.’

Andrew’s fingernails cut into his palms.  For a moment, the temptation was there, to dig them in deeper, feel the blood well, let all the emotions bleed out- but then he uncurled his hands, and pressed them flat on the freezing stone.  He concentrated on the cold instead, and let that centre him.

Eventually, he lit a cigarette.  As the smoke rose, Neil stirred above him.

‘I’m sorry.  For- misleading you.  Would it help if I- Can I tell you a truth?’

‘I don’t know,’ Andrew said.  ‘Can you?’

Neil ignored that.  ‘I ran away from home with my mother, a long time ago.  We never stopped anywhere for more than a couple of months.  It was always run, and hide,  and never look back.   Never, never tell the truth.

It’s still hard.  Even though she’s gone, it’s hard to forget what she say, what she would… do, if she could see me now.’

Andrew looked up sharply, catching that slight tremor in Neil’s voice.  He was running a hand back and forth over his forearm, pressing against the thin fabric of his overlarge shirt.  As if he was feeling the skin- or scars. 

‘She cannot “do” anything to you now.’  The words, spoken almost involuntarily, burnt on the way out.  The thought of someone, anyone, laying hands on Neil-

The man smiled down at him, a bitter, wistful twist of the lips.  ‘I know.  But it’s up here,’ he said, tapping his temple. 

‘Will you- can we- still do this?  The truths?,’ Neil asked.  He sounded almost anxious, and it made Andrew want to shut him up, to stop whatever he thought was going on between them, before Neil’s delusions got out of control.

Instead, he asked again, ‘What is your name?’

‘I was named after my father.  Don’t ask me for that, Andrew, I can’t-,’ Neil faltered.  When he found his voice again, it was stronger, certain.  ‘Right now, I’m called Neil Josten.  But my mother used to call me Abram.  It’s my middle name.’

It wasn’t everything.  But it was enough.  It was truth. 

Andrew heard a faint noise through the cracked open door- a knock.  His room service, he presumed.  He slid the door open and stepped inside.

 

***

Neil let out a shaky breath.  He should have been panicking, should be hitting the ground running- but Andrew has taken his truth without question, without reaction or judgment.  Neil hadn’t thought he was even capable of telling the truth, after more than a decade of disguise.  Yet something about Andrew kept drawing truth after truth out of him.

To his surprise, Andrew came back out only a few minutes later, carrying a tray which he placed on the ground.  He made to sit, but paused when Neil spoke.

‘Wait- can I take a turn?’

Andrew shrugged.

‘When did you realise that I wasn’t staying here?  I mean, what gave it away?’

Andrew huffed, and dug in his pocket.  He drew out a slip of paper, and held it out for Neil to see.  It was a ticket for the shooting star ball. 

‘I asked a concierge to take it to your room.  She said that there was no Neil Johnson at the Foxhole.  There was no one staying in the room above.’

‘In that case, you must be talking to a ghost,’ Neil answered lightly.

Andrew stretched up, and wrapped a hand around Neil ankle.  ‘Funny.  You feel pretty corporal.’

‘Funny,’ Neil replied, ‘I thought you were too short to reach that high.’

Andrew’s expression tightened minutely, and without warning he tugged sharply.  Neil slid an inch closer to the drop.  For a second his breath crackled in his chest, and he laughed out loud.  Andrew looked disgusted at the noise.

Andrew shoved his ankle away like it had burnt him, and settled down to his food.  Oddly, he began with the overlarge dish of ice-cream. The smell of hot lasagne rose upwards, and Neil’s stomach groaned loudly.

Andrew stilled with his spoon halfway to his mouth.  He slowly looked up until he could glare at Neil.

‘Shut up.’

‘I didn’t say anything,’ Neil protested, but he couldn’t help shifting closer to the edge and inhaling deeply.

‘You are pathetic.  Can’t you even feed yourself?’

‘Fuck you.  I’m fine,’ Neil told him.

Andrew’s eyes narrowed.  ‘When did you last eat, then?’

‘Uh.  I- probably this morning. Yeah, this morning.’  He’d had half a cereal bar he’d found in the pocket of his hoodie, but Andrew didn’t need to know that.

‘Truly.  Pathetic.’

‘Yeah, well, empty rooms can’t order room service,’ Neil griped.

Andrew picked up his phone and punched a number in.  ‘Yes.  Room service.  103. Yes, the same again.’ 

‘Andrew what are you- hey, wait you don’t need to-‘ Neil said quickly, but Andrew had already snapped his phone shut and resumed his meal.  He ate in silence, ignoring Neil’s confusion, until there was another knock at his door.  He got up, and brought back another tray.

‘Can I come down?’ Neil asked.

‘How else were you intending to eat this?’ Andrew asked unhelpfully.   It wasn’t an answer, so Neil tried again.

‘Can I come down?’

Andrew looked up at him.  ‘I hate you,’ he said blankly.  ‘Yes.  Come down.’

Neil scanned the gap between their balconies.  Being attached to a fancy suite, Andrew’s was large enough to walk around on, while Neil’s was little more than a windowsill surrounded by railing.  He stood, and swung himself over to the other side of the railing, and then crouched, and grabbed the edge of the ledge.  In one smooth movement, he dropped over the edge and caught the ledge so he hung for a split second, slowing his fall, then dropped down onto the stone below.

He straightened and dusted off his hand.  He walked over to Andrew, who was watching him – furiously? 

‘Andrew?  Why are you looking at me like that?  What did I do?,’ He asked increasingly worried.

‘You.  You are a fucking hallucination.  I’d kill you, but your own death wish is going to save me the effort.’

Neil sat cross legged and leant back against the railing, leaving a comfortable space between himself and Andrew, but facing him still.  ‘You’re not making sense.  If you hate me so much, why did you just buy me dinner?’ he grinned.

‘I wanted more ice cream,’ Andrew answered, swiping the dish off the tray in front of Neil.  ‘But maybe having something in your mouth will shut you up.’

In retaliation, Neil used his fork to steal a bite of Andrew’s ice cream.  It was sickly sweet.  ‘Gross.  How can you eat that?  Aren’t you meant to be an athlete- is this on your meal plan?’

‘Have some food,’ Andrew almost growled, and shoved the plate of lasagne towards Neil.  He laughed, but began to eat.  Once the first bite passed his lips he had to hold in a groan, and finished the plate in what felt like seconds.  He was hardly a connoisseur of good food- in fact, he lived almost exclusively on lukewarm fast food and reheated takeaway- but the lasagne was amazing.

Andrew was staring at him again.  He’d barely started on his own main, just picked at it and pushed it around, and was halfway through his second dish of ice cream.

Neil caught his eye.  ‘Thank you.’

Andrew looked at him for another second, his hazel eyes glowing in the light cast from the window beside them, then turned away.  ‘Whatever.’

Neil settled back again, resting on his palms, and looked up at the clear sky, and watched a plane flashing and blinking its way through the night.  He remembered the flights, from state to state, across the Atlantic, through Europe, the feeling of looking down and seeing the patchwork of city lights below.  The feeling was so strong that, for a moment, Neil wasn’t sure if he was on the ground imagining he was in the plane, or in the plane imagining he was on the ground.  It was a moment of weightless uncertainty.

But then he was breathing in cigarette smoke.  He looked away from the sky, and focused instead on the red cherry that was casting strange shadows over Andrew’s face.

‘Ask me something,’ he told Andrew.  ‘For the food.’

Andrew didn’t say anything- but his expression shifted slightly, became contemplative, so Neil waited.

‘What are you hiding from?’

Neil closed his eyes, and thought.  He couldn’t tell the truth, he couldn’t.  But he’d already broken the rules of their game once, and he didn’t know if Andrew would forgive him a second time.  He would never find out that Neil had lied, or rather; Neil wouldn’t be alive to see it.  But Neil didn’t want to lie, not again.  Not to Andrew.

‘My father.  He’s a gang member, leader, whatever.  He wasn’t- an affectionate man.’  Neil ran a hand down his chest, feeling the thick scar tissue, even though the fabric.  ‘I was- I am terrified of him.’

Andrew cocked his head, staring intently at Neil’s chest, where his hand had pressed.  His eyes were so sharp that Neil was half afraid he could see through to the ruined skin.  He hunched his shoulders, causing the overlarge t-shirt to crinkle.

‘Will you show me them?’ Andrew asked.

Neil’s breath escaped him in a harsh noise that was almost a laugh.  ‘It’s not pretty.’

Andrew waited.  Finally, he said, ‘You do not have to show me.  Yes or No?’

‘I- Yes.’  Neil said.  ‘But not here.  Inside.’

Andrew slid the glass door back, and stepped inside, with Neil close behind.  The bedside lamp was lit, but the rest of the room was wreathed in soft shadows.   He shut the door.

Andrew propped himself against the wall, and waited, eyes on Neil.

Neil bit his lip, and pulled off his t-shirt.  He stared down, twisting and tugging at the material to avoid Andrew’s reaction.  So he heard, rather than saw, Andrew pushing off the wall and walking slowly towards him.  He circled Neil, taking it in, and didn’t say a word.

Neil was just about to say something, anything to break the oppressive silence- but Andrew’s fingertips brushed against his bicep, and he startled.  Andrew jerked back.

‘Wait-‘ Neil said.  ‘It’s okay, you can touch them.  You can touch me.  I don’t mind.’

Andrew stared at him for a moment.  ‘If you want me to stop, you will say so.’

Neil shrugged.  ‘Okay.’

Andrew closed in again.  He traced the line of the scar, where it hitched over his collarbone and trailed towards his shoulder.  He placed his hand over the width of the gash across his stomach, and Neil struggled to breathe, but he didn’t tell him to stop. 

The feeling of another’s hands on his skin, a touch that wasn’t intended to harm, should be alien to him.  But as Andrew’s warm hands trailed over him, it didn’t feel wrong.  It was gentle, and exploratory, his fingers betraying the curiosity that his expression always hid.

Andrew was behind him now.  He brushed lightly over the burn scar on his left shoulder, until his fingers lined up with the holes, and his thumb with a bullet hole.

‘The police used to come and poke around our house ever so often.  My job was to be quiet and sit still.  One time, I wasn’t still enough.  The iron was right next to me, still hot, so after they left he grabbed it and just-‘

Andrew looked his fill, then handed Neil’s shirt back to him.  ‘Stay or go,’ he said indifferently, then let himself back onto the balcony.  Neil looked between him and the door, and after a moment, followed Andrew.

The night was cold enough that his abandoned ice-cream was still intact.  Neil spent the rest of the evening stealing bites.  It was disgusting, but well worth Andrew’s irritation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... so the Ball is the next chapter, I *promise*!!!!! It's already mostly written, but it was super long and I didn't want to split it in the middle, and I'm trying to post every Thursday... forgive me :'  
> Thanks to everyone who comments or leave kudos, it's so encouraging!


	6. VI The Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Neil is working as a maid in The Foxhole hotel, and squatting in one of the empty rooms. Neil strikes up a friendship (of a kind) Andrew Minyard, world-class exy player and the guest in the room below. After realising Neil is on the run from the police and his gang leader father, Andrew agrees to cover for Neil on the condition he comes with him to The Shooting Stars Ball.

**VI**

**The Ball**

‘Stay still, goddammit!  You’ll ruin it, Josten,’ Allison said as her eyeliner jabbed dangerously close to his eye.  If she hadn’t had him sitting on the hard, cold tiles of her bathroom floor for the last hour, he’d be less inclined to fidget, but it didn’t seem wise to tell that to a women holding a pointed object a few millimetres from his eye.

After he’d finished his shift, he’d been ready to creep up to his room, and hide there until Andrew dragged him out to the asinine ball.  But Allison had had other ideas, so Neil had been blackmailed into coming to her flat to get him ready.  Fortunately, he’d managed to give her the slip long enough to slide a note under Andrew’s door, so he’d know where to pick Neil up.  Or maybe unfortunately…

Allison added a final flick of eyeliner then sat back on her heels.  ‘Okay, I think you’re done.  What do you think?’ she asked, holding up a mirror.

Neil grimaced at his reflection.  Brushed and gelled, his chin length hair looked even curlier than usual, and was parted to one side so it tumbled down over his forehead.  At least it partially hid his face.  The sparkling powder on his cheekbones and ink around his eyes made his face look strangely angular.  He didn’t look like Neil Josten- but he supposed that was a good thing.

‘It’s… nice.  Thanks.’

Allison groaned.  ‘You’re an ungrateful bastard, you really are.  At least your date will thank me for cleaning you up.  Talking of your date, aren’t you going to be late?’

‘I hope so,’ Neil said.  ‘That’s the intention, I think.’

‘This invitation is wasted on you.  Hey, maybe I can go instead!’

‘I don’t think you’d get on with my… date,’ Neil said.  ‘But I’ll pass it along.’

A car horn sounded, and Allison leapt to her feet.  She threw the window open and stuck her head out.

‘Wow, Neil, I think it’s him.  You really know how to pick them.  He’s rude as fuck, but I guess he has a nice taste in cars.’

Neil joined her.  He hadn’t actually told Andrew the number of the flat, so it wasn’t like Andrew could come up anyway.  He waved out the window.

‘Okay, okay,’ Allison said, yanking him away, ‘have you got everything?  Your phone- wait, no, I’m talking to an ingrate, scrap that- here, I wrote my phone number down for you- have you got condoms?’

‘Thank you, Allison, I’m fine,’ Neil gritted.

She insisted on coming down with him, but he managed to convince her to stay on the doorstep, out of the fine rain, instead of literally handing him into the car.

He jogged over to the car.  It was low to the ground, and looked fast, but he didn’t understand what Allison had been exclaiming about.  He pulled the door open, and slid in.  The foot well was large enough, so he jammed his duffle in there and planted his feet on top.

Inside the car, the air was warm and lightly scented with pleasant cologne. 

‘What happened to you?’ Andrew asked, looking him up and down.  ‘I didn’t think you had a concept of fashion.’

‘This wasn’t me.  It was my friend.  She has a lot of opinions on how I should look,’ Neil frowned.   ‘You look nice.’  He really did.  Maybe it was because Neil had only seen him in half-light before, but it was difficult to look away from Andrew.  He was wearing a plain black tuxedo that emphasized his broad shoulders and muscular build, and had combed his hair back off his face, revealing a small black stud in one ear.  Neil reached out slowly, and ran a finger down the edge of Andrew’s ear.

‘I didn’t know you had a piercing,’ he said.  His voice came out lower than he’d intended.

‘I didn’t know you had friends,’ Andrew answered, and Neil smiled.

He heard something outside the car, and turned back to his window.  From the shelter of the doorway, Allison was shouting something, and waving at him to lower his window.  Reluctantly, he rolled it down.

‘Have a good time, Neil!’ she yelled.  ‘And you, mystery man, you better be a real gentleman, or else I’ll make you suffer.  Neil, you have my number, if you want me to come and pick you up, call anytime.’

‘Thanks, Allison,’ Neil yelled back, and closed the window.

‘Are you two done?’ Andrew asked, eyebrows raised.  Neil just grinned at him, so he revved the engine and spun away from the curb. 

The city looked pretty in the dark.  Christmas lights blinked and glowed in gaudy shades of red and green and blue, blurring together through the fog of breath on Neil’s window.  He cleaned a small circle with his sleeve.

‘Do you like Christmas?’ he asked.  It was more to break the charged silence than anything else, but Andrew tolerated the question.

‘No.’

‘I never really celebrated it before.  In Baltimore, there were big parties, but they only terrified me.  After that, we never really noticed Christmas.  It was just a reminder of time passing, and a reason to move on.’

‘The first time I enjoyed Christmas was in juvie,’ Andrew returned.  ‘Everyone else was too homesick and pathetic to bother me.  I didn’t have to say a word to anyone.’

They slowed as they hit the city centre traffic.  Andrew took advantage of the traffic lights to crack open his window and light another cigarette.  He held the pack up, offering one to Neil without looking at him.  Neil reached over and stole the lit cigarette out of his mouth.

For a split second, he felt the warmth of Andrew’s surprised breath on his fingers.

Then Andrew was glaring.  He put the cigarette in his mouth and Andrew’s eyes dropped to his lips.  Neil grinned around the cigarette.

‘I hate you,’ Andrew said blankly.

‘You made me come tonight.  If I’m annoying you, you only have yourself to blame,’ Neil answered smugly.

The car slowed and came to a stop.  Neil looked out and up at backlit fountains, the stairs, the warmly lit elaborate façade of the arches and pillars.

‘Hey, I know this place.  It’s the- uh-’

Andrew stared at him, almost terminally unimpressed.  ‘This is the Metropolitan Museum of Art,’ he said slowly. 

‘Oh… right.  Yeah.  I’ve never been.’

‘That is evident,’ Andrew said.  ‘Now stop stalling.’

Neil looked at out again, and blanched.  Despite their late arrival, most of the press were still lining the steps.

Andrew reached out and hooked a finger around Neil’s jaw.  He turned Neil’s face away from the view towards himself, but left his finger digging into the pulse in Neil’s neck.

‘They do not matter.  They are here for the celebrities and socialites.  We are nothing to them.’

Neil was breathing too fast, but he couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs.  Andrew watched him for a moment, with narrowed eyes, his hand heavy on the back of Neil’s neck, and then sighed.  He started the engine and drove around the corner to park over a yellow line. 

‘There is a side entrance.’

Neil nodded silently, embarrassed and unnerved that he’d let his panic show so clearly.  Seeing the cameras made it harder to ignore how incredibly stupid it was for him to be here. 

Andrew was still watching him.  He looked up and met his cool gaze.  There was no concern in Andrew’s hazel eyes, not curiosity - his apathy in the face of Neil’s fractured psyche should have been abrasive, but it soothed Neil.  Andrew hadn’t flinched from his scars, and he wouldn’t flinch from the trauma hidden inside his head.

He opened his door and slid out, onto the curb.  The rain had almost stopped; the droplets were so tiny it was almost like a falling mist than drizzle, lit up like halos around the streetlights. 

Andrew locked his car, and crossed to the curb.  He collected Neil with a glance, and walked back the way they’d driven.  Neil didn’t like the feeling of walking away from his duffle, but taking it in with him would draw too much attention.  Neil followed him down a narrow back road that twisted and turned, tracing the perimeter of the museum, before it opened out to a small, empty courtyard.  There was a garage sized door, presumably for deliveries, but also a normal door, with a security guard by it.

Andrew produced two tickets from his jacket, and held them out.

The security guard looked them up and down, confused- but Andrew’s impassive expression didn’t invite enquiry.

‘Welcome to the Shooting Stars Ball, sir.  I’ll just need to check you against the guest list.’  He took a phone from inside his uniform and glanced up at Andrew.  ‘Mr Minyard, yes?  I’m a big fan.’

Andrew’s already chilly expression became practically glacial.  Neil bit back a smile.

‘Ah- You can head in.  And good luck next season, you guys are really looking good!’

Neil was about to prompt the guard for a few more comments, but Andrew grabbed his arm and dragged him in.

‘Aw, come on, Andrew!  You’re here to make a good impression, right?  We should go back, you guys could get a photo together!’

Andrew twisted, and pushed him up against the wall of the corridor.  ‘Ninety one.’

‘Ninety one what?’

‘Ninety one percent of the time I want to murder you.  I decided to start keeping count of the percentage.’

‘Only ninety-one?  What about the other nine percent?  What do you want then?’ Neil asked.

Andrew leant in slowly, until the full length of his body was parallel to Neil’s, only an inch between them.  His breath warmed Neil’s cheek.  He said ‘ninety-two,’ and stepped back.

Neil laughed out loud, and again when Andrew turned away in disgust.  Andrew headed down the corridor, and confidently threaded his way through the galleries until they reached a small antechamber.

‘How come you know this place so well?,’ Neil asked.  ‘I didn’t peg you for an art lover.’

‘My friend Renee.  She lived in New York for a while, used to drag me out here every time I visited.’

‘And you just memorised the layout?’

‘Yes.  Are you done stalling?’ 

‘No,’ Neil muttered under his breath, but joined Andrew at the door.  Faint sounds of lively conversations and bursts of laughter permeated the door, underlayed by classical music.  It sounded like the seventh circle of hell.

He sighed, and gestured at Andrew to lead the way.  Andrew looked intently at his face for a moment, probably trying to assess whether Neil was going to have a panic attack when he opened the doors.  Neil smiled widely, trying to mentally project  an aura of mental stability.  Andrew didn’t look convinced, but he nonetheless pushed through the doors.

They were at the very back of the hall, opposite the pillars and huge arched windows more than three storeys tall that looked out onto fifth avenue.  The room was laid out with round tables and seating on one raised area, overlooking sunken dancefloor crowded with swirling couples.

The band on the stage to the side was small.  Three singers, dressed well enough to pass as guests, swayed at the front, to the acoustic backing provided by a keyboard, a couple of guitars and the slow pulse of a drum.  On the other side of the room, an open bar was doing brisk trade.

With the bare stone walls, vaulted ceiling and one wall comprised entirely of slanted windows, the place should have been freezing, but Neil felt like he was burning up.  He looked over to Andrew, wanting to absorb some of his calm, and realised he was already moving.  Neil jogged to catch up, then slowed to walk at Andrew’s side, letting his broad frame shield him from the rest of the room.  Andrew flicked him a knowing glance, but didn’t call him out on it.

They headed straight to the bar.  It was crowded, and Neil was pressed up against Andrew’s side, but somehow it felt comforting- like a wall to his back, like the only thing he could rely upon in this strange world of soft lights and heavy perfume and glittering bodies.

‘What do you drink?’, Andrew asked.

‘Nothing.  Uh- water, I guess.’  Neil didn’t want to lose any of his focus tonight, and he was already too jittery to contemplate the sickly sodas.

Andrew made a contemptuous noise, but got him his water, and whisky for himself.  With a hand on his back, he steered Neil to an empty table at the edge, and allowed him the seat with its back to the wall.  They sipped their drinks in silence for a while.  Occasionally someone would come up to talk to Andrew.  Since he answered only direct questions, and only in monosyllables, all of the interactions were short-lived.  Only one person asked who his guest was, to which Andrew answered, ‘an annoyance’, which seemed kill that line of enquiry.

Neil had been feeling increasingly unsettled.  By this point he was almost entirely tuning out whoever was talking at Andrew in favour of trying to subtly scan the room and identify whatever was setting off his radar.  Then he saw him- across the room from them, a man sitting alone, staring right at them.

As soon as he clocked the man, Neil turned back to the conversation, nodding a few times to whatever the woman was saying to make it look like he was taking part in the conversation.  Meanwhile, he stole glances over out of the corner of his eye. 

The man was black-suited and black haired- and on his cheek Neil could just about discern a black mark- the number one.  It was Riko Moriyama. 

A diehard exy fan since the age of ten, Neil knew all about Riko.  As a child he’d been obsessed with Riko and Kevin.  Although his admiration for Kevin remained, if somewhat tempered by Andrew’s account of the man, any admiration he’d once felt for Riko had long since faded.

For the first years of their public life, Kevin and Riko had been inseparable- until one day, Kevin left the team he’d grown up with and the home he’d been raised in, to transfer mid-season with a supposedly crippling injury for a coaching position in the worst class one team in the states.  However, while Kevin had eventually overcome his injury, with the support of the Foxes, and gone on to improve year on year, Riko’s skill had seemed to plateau after Kevin moved on.

Over the subsequent years, the distance between their skills had only widened, with Kevin making court and playing for a top team as Riko slowly sank down the rankings.

His fall from grace was compounded by the increasing rumours of his unpleasant personality that according to some, bordered on psychotic.  There were even unconfirmed suggestions that he’d actually broken Kevin’s hand all those years ago.

Neil caught a movement in his peripheral vision, and his head whipped round.  Riko was coming towards them. 

‘Minyard.  I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here- it is a charity event, after all.’

‘Actually, I’d say it’s more of an ego-fest- so I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see _you_ here,’ Neil said.

Riko’s jaw flexed as he grit his teeth.  He looked Neil up and down with a slow, uncomfortably intense look before his expression relaxed into a smirk.

‘Where did you pick this one up?  On a street corner perhaps?  He’s pretty, but a little rough around the edges- not really the thing for this kind of event.’

‘No, but apparently third rate players who peaked age ten are all the rage.  Oh wait- nobody here is interested in you or your little temper tantrum.  So, please, shut the fuck up and leave us alone.’

‘Insolent scum,’ Riko said softly- for a moment seeming almost incredulous that Neil had spoken to him in such a tone- but with dawning anger.  He lunged across the table.

‘You dare-‘

Andrew was on his feet the second Riko moved.  As Riko reached for Neil, he caught his arm and _twisted_ , forcing it round and locking it painfully behind his back.

Riko cried out as Andrew pulled his arm up, falling back into his seat, oblivious to Neil in his pain.

Andrew shifted so he stood halfway behind Riko, hiding the arm lock between their bodies, and shielding their tableau from the rest of the room.

‘Hush now Riko.  Don’t make me break this arm.  That would hardly help your failing career, would it?  So let’s not make a scene,’ Andrew said in a conversational tone.

Riko groaned something in response- Neil didn’t catch the words, but anger and fear came across in equal measure.

‘What was that?  You’re going to leave and not bother me or my friend ever again?’

‘Fucking- yes, fucking get off of me!’ Riko yelped.

Andrew looked to Neil, who considered for a few seconds, then nodded.  Andrew dropped Riko’s arm, and stepped neatly to the side as Riko flung himself out of his chair and away from their table. 

Andrew sat back down, like nothing had happened.  However, their little scene with Riko seemed to have discouraged anyone else from approaching Andrew.  Neil appreciated the break from their insipid attempts at conversation- but at least listening to them had passed the time.

Neil drummed his fingers against his glass, with increasing force until he could hear the rattle of his nails against the surface. The glass began to rock a little - and then tipped entirely off the table. Neil jerked forward and caught it an inch off the stone tiles.

When he looked up, Andrew was glaring at him.

'Uh- sorry.  Allison- the woman from earlier - always says she can't take me anywhere.'

'It's reassuring to know you're not making a _special_ effort to annoy me.'

Neil grinned, and reached for the glass again, only for Andrew to smack his hand away. He settled for jiggling his leg under the table.

'So do you dance?,' Neil asked, after another minute of quiet.

Andrew didn't deign to answer, but a moment later he stood. Without a word he started walking away.

Neil jumped to his feet. 'Andrew? Andrew, wait, I don't know how to dance, I wasn't -' he caught up to Andrew, who favoured him with a particularly unimpressed stare.

'94%, Josten. We are not going to dance.'

Actually, Neil realized they were heading to the bar, where Andrew ordered two neat whiskeys.  He picked up both and headed off again, across the room the way they had come in, but stopped at a different door.  The security guard stepped neatly aside. 

They stepped through into a tall, narrow gallery that shared the continuous floor-to-ceiling slanted windows as the ballroom.

As the door closed behind them, the iron bands around Neil’s chest loosened and fell away.  Finally, he could breath. 

The only light in the room was from the moonlight filtering through the window.  Neil crossed the room, and let his forehead rest on the cold panes.  They sapped some of the heat out of his face, and he sighed in relief.

Only when he had collected himself did he notice the view.  The windows looked out the back of the museum, onto central park.  A few streetlamps glowed in the distance, but they were outdone by the clear sky and the full moon.  Even if you couldn’t really see the stars, through the light pollution and smog, it was still something special.

Andrew joined him at the window, but only cracked open one of the panes before sitting cross legged on the floor.  Neil joined him down there.

‘So.  Is seeing me suffer improving your night like you’d hoped?,’ he asked.

Andrew pulled out his ever present pack of cigarettes, and passed him a one.  Neil put it between his lips and waited while Andrew lit up.  After a moment, Andrew looked over at him.  His face was expressionless as ever, but Neil was still learning to read him.

‘What?’ he asked, just to make Andrew talk to him.

Andrew sighed slightly, like he was being difficult.  ‘Are you going to light that, or just suck it like a lollipop?’

Neil smiled around the stick.  ‘No light.’

Andrew pulled his lighter out of the pack and offered it.  Neil kept his hands in his lap, but leant forward ever so slightly.

Andrew stared.  Neil waited.

Eventually Andrew moved.  He sparked the lighter.   Tiny twin flames danced in his eyes.  Even though there was no draft, his other hand cupped the flame as he leaned in.  Neil kept perfectly still. Andrew held himself carefully, his hands perfectly steady, not even brushing Neil’s face for a moment.  They were face to face, breathing the same air, for a half-second, just enough time for the cigarette to catch, before Andrew leant back again. 

Neil’s exhale was shaky.

‘It is,’ Andrew said.

Neil blinked at him, still a little out of it.

‘Watching you suffer is making my night more bearable,’ he elaborated.

Neil huffed a laugh.  ‘Asshole.’

‘Rabbit.’

‘I’m sorry, what?’

Andrew turned to look at Neil again, and blew smoke into his face.  ‘I called you a rabbit.  You know.  Small.  Twitchy.  Bolts at the first sign of trouble.’

‘I’m not-  I don’t-,’ Neil hesitated, not quite able to deny Andrew’s allegations.  ‘Whatever.  You’re smaller than me anyway, so I guess that makes you a guinea pig.’

Andrew’s expression froze.

Neil went on.  ‘You know.  Small.  Fluffy.  A total glutton.’

‘Your idiocy goes beyond words,’ Andrew informed him.  ‘Fortunately that means everyone will believe me when I tell them you fell to your death out that window.’

‘Well, I guess you’re already dressed for the funeral,’ Neil said contemplatively.  ‘You won’t throw me out though.’

‘And what makes you think that?,’ Andrew asked coolly.

Neil shrugged.  ‘You like me.’

‘I hate you,’ Andrew said.

He reached over, and took the cigarette from Neil’s mouth.  Before he could protest at the theft, Andrew had ground it into the floor, and then he was kissing Neil.

At the first touch of Andrew’s mouth, Neil almost fell back, out of pure shock- but fortunately he managed to keep his balance.

Fortunately, because Andrew’s mouth on his was like nothing he’d ever imagined.

His lips were rough and chapped, but that felt right, that felt real.  When Andrew’s lips parted, so did Neil’s and Andrew’s hot breath warmed him to the core.  Gently, Andrew’s tongue traced the inside edge of Neil’s lips, where the skin was soft and sensitive.  A soft noise escaped Neil, between a groan and a sigh.

Apparently Andrew liked that sound, because with that his hands found Neil’s shoulders, and he shoved him back until he was flat on his back, his mouth never leaving Neil’s.  Andrew’s tongue flicked into Neil’s mouth, and he groaned for real this time.  Neil was fast losing all control of his mouth as Andrew’s kisses devoured his thoughts.

Neil flinched when something buzzed harshly against him.  Andrew muttered something incoherently irritated against his mouth, then reach down without looking to retrieve his phone from where it was pressed between them in his pocket.  Andrew tossed it away without looking.

Then he was focused on Neil again, and this time Neil couldn’t help reaching for Andrew, to draw him in closer, to feel if his hair was as soft as it looked.  Andrew must have sensed the movement, because he grabbed both of Neil’s wrists and pinned them above his head.

Andrew pulled away, holding himself above Neil.  Both of them were breathing fast, through lips that were red and swollen.

‘Do you want this?,’ Andrew asked, his tone harsh.  Neil just looked up at him, the flush across his cheeks, his pupils blown so wide that his hazel irises were barely visible, a lock of blonde hair stuck to his damp forehead.

‘Neil, yes or no?,’ he asked insistently.

‘I… Uh, yes,’ Neil stammered.

For a moment, Andrew leant in- and then, suddenly, he sat back, and pushed himself entirely away from Neil, cursing softly under his breath.

Neil stayed down, but turned his head to one side so he could see Andrew lighting up and crushing one cigarette after another.

‘Drew.  You ok?’

Andrew didn’t answer, didn’t even look at him.

‘Andrew.  Do you want me to leave?,’ Neil tried again.

‘No.  Stay there.’ Andrew ground out. 

So Neil stayed on the floor, while they both got a hold of themselves.  After a while Andrew said, ‘There are rules.  If you want this.’

‘Okay,’ Neil said.

‘You don’t touch me.  When I say no, you stop.  And when you say no, I stop.  This doesn’t work any other way.  If you don’t like it you can-‘

‘-Andrew,’ Neil interrupted,’ I said it’s okay.  I can keep to that, I promise.’

The rigid set of Andrew’s shoulder’s softened a little.

Neil sat up, and took a cigarette from the pack on the ground.  This time he lit it himself.  And though they didn’t talk, he felt like he was still promising something, with every moment he spent sat next to Andrew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Ball!!! Part 1… I hope it lived up to your expectations! And The Kiss! Kinda a big chapter.
> 
> Also I have no idea about the layout of the Met, and couldn’t find anything helpful online, so this is just made up, sorry if it’s terribly inaccurate. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and all my love to anyone who has commented or left kudos <3 <3 <3


	7. VII  Missed Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Neil is working as a maid in The Foxhole hotel, and squatting in one of the empty rooms. Andrew has flown to New York because Nicky is in hospital. Neil strikes up a friendship (of a kind) Andrew Minyard, world-class exy player and the guest in the room below. Neil’s surprise encounter with Aaron and Andrew results in secrets revealed for Neil and an elbow in the solar plexus for Aaron. Andrew agrees to cover for Neil on the condition he comes with him to The Shooting Stars Ball. At the Ball, Andrew and Neil make out, and Andrew declines a call that interrupts them.

**VII**

**Missed Call**

Andrew supposed it was a good sign that Neil hadn’t fled screaming from the room.  Yet.  Usually, it didn’t worry him like this.  Either the men he found could accept the rules, and they could fuck, or they couldn’t and they left.  Eventually they all broke the rules anyway, and he made them leave after that.

But with Neil it was different.  It was more important that he understood, that he didn’t make mistakes, because Andrew didn’t want to make him leave.

After a few more cigarettes, Andrew retrieved his phone and unlocked it.

His missed call was from Aaron.  What the fuck?

Andrew crushed the redial with his thumb and jammed the phone to his ear.  The dial tone was agonisingly slow.  The call went to voicemail.

He called again.  Again.

‘Andrew?,’ Neil was asking, ‘Andrew, what’s wrong?’

Andrew didn’t have words for the way his lungs seemed to have shrunk, the way his stomach was trying to crawl up his throat, the way his heart was collapsing.  He swore instead.

He called Erik.  Erik didn’t pick up.

Fuck fuck fuck _shit_.

Andrew was on his feet, half-way to the door.

‘Andrew wait!  Please, tell me what’s going on?’ Neil pleaded from behind him.

Andrew spun, unable to control his snarl.  He didn’t have time for this, he didn’t have time for Neil’s issues.  But he had brought him here, against his will, and he couldn’t leave him here alone.

‘We are leaving,’ Andrew choked out through the acid in his throat.  Neil still wasn’t moving, so with a growl he doubled back and grabbed Neil’s wrist.

‘We are leaving _now_.’

He slammed through the door, barely registering Neil’s stumbling and cursing behind him.  The exit was on the other side of the dancefloor.  Andrew shoved and elbowed his way through the couples, sending a couple sprawling in his wake.

He charged up the staircase to the arched entrance.  A security guard stepped forward, saying something that Andrew didn’t register, looking concerned, and Andrew began to reach for his knives-

‘Wait!,’ Neil said, darting between them.  ‘Everything is fine, we’re just leaving a little early.  My friend just got a call, some bad news, so we’re going now.’

The second the guard stepped back Andrew was moving again.  Some part of him realised he still had an iron grip on Neil’s wrist, but he didn’t think to release him.

The moment they stepped outside there was a couple of flashes- followed by more, and more, as the reporters still lining the steps yelled out questions and demands.  Andrew ignored them all and didn’t stop to breathe until he’d reached his car a few streets over.

Only then did Andrew think to release Neil’s wrist.  He unlocked and slid into the car.  Neil hesitated for a moment, then got in as well.  They pulled away from the curb, engine revving harshly.  At least at 10pm the traffic was minimal, enough so that his dodging and weaving only earned them a few horn-blasts and explicit hand gestures.  And one red light skipped out of all of them wasn’t so bad.

In any case, in fifteen minutes they were at the hospital.  Andrew swung into a side street, and parked, most likely illegally.  Once again Neil seemed to deliberate for a few seconds over whether he should stay or follow Andrew, but Andrew didn’t have time for his issues, and he didn’t have the words to explain, so he just headed straight in.  Neil caught up with him as he shoved through the doors, slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder.

At the slam of the doors, the receptionist behind the desk jumped to his feet.  Andrew stalked straight past the desk, ignoring the startled protest.  Neil stayed for a moment, arguing heatedly, before he managed to placate the woman and stop her from setting security on them. 

‘I told her that you’d had an urgent call about a family member,’ Neil said, panting slightly as he jogged to reach Andrew again.  ‘And that Dr Minyard had okayed the visit.’

Andrew didn’t care. 

‘Andrew, I just need to know if it’s okay for me to be here.  I know you’re focused right now, but please just tell me if I need to leave.  I can run home from here.’

Andrew let out a harsh breath.  ‘You don’t have to go.  I mean-  Stay.’

‘Okay,’ Neil said softly.

At the ward, they repeated the same performance: Andrew stormed straight through while Neil stopped to placate the staff.  His heart was racing from running all the way here, he breath was coming fast and shallow from the exertion, not from anything else, not because-

He jogged down the corridor, past room one, two, _three._  He burst into the room and stopped in his tracks.

Two blonde heads, white like his own and darker, bent over a bed.  Aaron and Erik.

In the bed, pale and drawn, Nicky.

In the bed, alive and smiling, Nicky.

‘Andrew?’ he said, barely a murmur.

Andrew didn’t answer.

‘Andrew!  Aaron said you’d come, said you’d been here every day, but I almost didn’t believe him,’ Nicky said, breaking into a wide smile.

Andrew looked slowly between them all.  All of them smiling now.  Erik was smiling down at Nicky, unable to look away.  Nicky smiling at him.  Even Aaron, who hadn’t smiled, really smiled, at Andrew in years- perhaps ever- was smiling, just slightly, as he looked over.

Andrew was across the room in a heartbeat.  His hand fisted Aaron’s shirt, he hauled him out of his seat and shoved him against the wall.  Nicky shouted in alarm, and the patients in the other beds too.

‘ _You idiot_ ,’ Andrew ground out.  ‘You idiot, I saw your call, and then you didn’t answer, and I thought that.  I thought that Nicky had-‘

Aaron gaped at him.  ‘You thought Nicky _died_?  Andrew, you were here six hours ago!  I told you he was improving, he wasn’t really in danger!’

Andrew’s fist tightened in his shirt for a few seconds, and he struggled not to hit him.  Behind them, he heard more voices as nurses came rushing into the room- but Neil, Erik and Nicky’s strident protests kept them from interfering.  After a few seconds, he managed to unclench his fingers, and stepped back. 

‘You didn’t answer your phone,’ Andrew said again.

One of the nurses stepped forward.  ‘Sir, I understand that this has been an emotional time, but we really cannot condone this behaviour.  Please keep yourself under control before we have to ask you to leave.’

‘It’s okay,’ Nicky said quickly.  ‘They’re fine now.  We won’t make any more fuss, I promise.’

The nurse looked between Andrew’s blank face and Aaron’s flush, and then at Nicky’s pleading smile.  ‘Okay,’ she said, looking unconvinced, ‘we’ll leave you.  But please don’t disturb the other patients, they need their rest.’  On that warning, the nurses filed out. 

From the way a few were gaping at Andrew, he surmised there were some Exy fans among them, and hoped none of them would forget their vows of confidentiality.  His family history had been dragged through the gossip columns too many times already, they didn’t need fresh ammunition.

Andrew sat down in Aaron’s (unwillingly) vacated seat, opposite Erik.  The German managed to look away from Nicky long enough to favour Andrew with a cool look.  ‘Are you planning to fight anyone else, or have you finished attacking your family?’

‘Hush, Erik,’ Nicky scolded, but since he took the man’s hand at the same time it was clear Erik wasn’t in too much trouble.

Andrew took a moment to properly examine his cousin.  His usually warm brown skin was a little wan, all the flush faded from his cheeks.  The bones of his face were a little more prominent, and his still fever-glazed eyes were slightly sunken in dark, bruise like circles.

‘Andrew.  I’m okay-‘

‘You look like crap,’ Andrew said.

Nicky chuckled, and then gasped and broke into a fit of weak, shallow coughs that made Andrew’s chest twinge in sympathy.  When he recovered, he admitted, ‘Okay, I’m exhausted and my whole body hurts.  But it’s fine, because you’re all here, and I’m here, and that’s what matters, alright?’

Andrew scoffed quietly.  ‘We’ll see if you still think that when they take away your painkillers.’

‘Ha, you can’t fool me now.  I know you’ve got a heart buried under that big tough act,’ Nicky teased weakly.  ‘Flew all the way up here, just to watch over me while I slept and-‘

‘Wrong again,’ Andrew interrupted.  ‘I came for the Christmas shopping.’

Nicky groaned.  ‘Idiot.  You love me, and you can’t hide it.’  When Andrew didn’t respond, he only grinned wider.  ‘But I really did want to thank you.  Andrew, thank you for coming to look after me, and thank you for calling Erik, and thank you for coming here in the middle of the night.’

‘Whatever,’ Andrew said roughly.

Erik began murmuring to Nicky in German, to soft and low for Andrew to translate- not that he wanted to know what he was saying.  Aaron eventually got over himself and sat down too, just watching Nicky half-dozing in silence, with Andrew.

It had been a long, long time since the three of them were together.  This time they’d even all chosen to be here with each other, which was even stranger.  For so long they had had a relationship forged from necessity and promises, because they needed each other.  After those necessities and promises had fallen away, when Aaron and Andrew came of age and they all graduated, there had been nothing left to hold them together.  Yet here they all were, once again.  With a couple of extras.

At that moment, Nicky seemed to come out of his revere.  ‘Andrew… Andrew.  You brought a cutie to visit me!  You never said who he was.’ Nicky waved at Neil, who’d sat himself quietly in the corner of the ward, and startled when he realised Nicky was pointing at him.

‘Hey, come over here, mysterious hot person!’ Nicky called out.  Erik shushed him fondly, and the other patients in the adjacent beds irritably. 

Cautiously, with a glance at Andrew to make sure he was welcome, Neil approached the bed.

‘Andrew won’t tell me who you are,’ Nicky pouted.

‘Um…  I’m Neil.  Neil Josten,’ Neil told him.

‘And how do you know Andrew?,’ Nicky demanded.  Neil hesitated, and glanced at Andrew, apparently not wanting to share the fact that they’d met when Neil started mocking him from the balcony of a hotel room he was squatting in.

From the corner, Aaron’s brows shot up and as he looked between Neil and Andrew.  He opened his mouth to say something, but Nicky cut him off.

‘Wait a moment!,’ Nicky said, suddenly sounding ecstatic.  Andrew glared at him, knowing that tone meant only trouble.  ‘You’re both dressed up in suits.  Really pretty suits.  I don’t believe it…. You guys were on a date!’

Neil snorted.  ‘No way.  Andrew made me go with him to this dumb dance thing at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.’

Andrew’s glare was having no effect on the oblivious idiot.

Nicky gasped in what looked like genuine shock.  ‘Are you fucking with me?  Are you saying Andrew took you to the Met Ball?’

‘Uh, yeah?,’ Neil said, looking a little concerned at Nicky’s shock.

‘Oh.  My God.  I can’t… the Met Ball?!,’ Nicky said, with a laugh that bordered on hysterical.  ‘Is that why you missed the call, Andrew?  Too busy making out?’ he teased.  Then, at Neil’s sudden flush, and Andrew’s wooden expression, the penny dropped.

Nicky actually _shrieked_ with excitement.

So in the end, it wasn’t Andrew that got them kicked out.

‘Wait, wait, I’m really sorry, I won’t do it again,’ Nicky pleaded as the nurses came back in- with security this time.  ‘Please, I just found out that my emotionally stunted baby cousin is dating that cutie-pie and I just got excited...  okay fine, but just let Andrew stay for a few minutes?  Please?’

Eventually, as Nicky got increasingly tearful and over-wrought the nurses agreed to let Andrew stay- ‘But only ten more minutes, mind.’

Andrew grabbed Aaron’s sleeve as he brushed past.  Aaron yanked his arm away from Andrew, but turned to face him regardless. 

‘Drive Neil back to the hotel,’ he said.  Aaron looked at him incredulously.  ‘It’s late, and I drove him here, so he can’t get back on his own.’

Behind him, Neil made some kind of indignant protest, which Andrew ignored.  He wasn’t going to make Neil find his own way across Manhattan at two am.

Aaron sighed.  ‘This is Manhattan, not downtown Detroit.  No one is going to bother him, and besides,’ he touched his hand to his solar plexus, where Neil had hit him, ‘I think we both know he can look after himself.’

Andrew waited, and watched Aaron’s jaw work.

 ‘Okay, fine, I’ll take him back,’ Aaron sighed eventually, and let the nurses guide him out the door. 

Neil and Erik were sheparded out too, but not before Neil managed to get in a glare, reminding Andrew hotly that ‘I’m not a child, you know.’

‘I know.’ Andrew answered impassively.  ‘Just go with him anyway, okay?’

‘Fine,’ Neil huffed, and with that, Andrew and Nicky were alone.

‘You guys are so cute,’ Nicky cooed. 

Andrew made as if to get up.

‘Wait, wait!  That’s not what I wanted to say!’  Nicky hesitated for a moment and twisted his hands together in his lap.

‘It’s just that… this is the first time in years you and Aaron have been in the same room.  I was really starting to believe that you’d never see each other again.  What I mean is- this is an opportunity, one you might never have again, to reach out to him.  I know he wants to see you again.

Aaron’s still having me and Erik for Christmas next week, I’ll definitely be out by then.  I know you said that you wouldn’t come for Christmas at Aaron’s, and I know I promised I’d stop bugging you about it.  But please, Andrew, just think about it.  You could even bring Neil with you.’

For once Nicky kept to his word, and though Andrew could see he wanted to push it, didn’t say another word about it.  Because of that, and maybe because what Nicky said was a tiny bit right, Andrew finally said, ‘I guess it can’t be worse than the Met Ball.’

Nicky chuckled at that.  ‘I hope not.’ 

After that, they didn’t talk much.  Now that Nicky got what he wanted, he was fading fast.  By the time the nurses came back, Nicky was already asleep, and after a brief discussion, they agreed that Andrew could stay too.  Even though he had no doubt Nicky would sleep all night, and he had no doubt that he wouldn’t sleep at all- not in a public place like this, in the open- he stayed because Nicky was still hated to be by himself, and he didn’t want Nicky to wake up alone.

 

***

It seemed that Andrew and Aaron didn’t share the same preferences for cars.  Where Andrew’s was sleek and shiny and impractical in an expensive way, Aaron’s car was as dirty and dented as the worst of the cars Neil had driven in all his time on the run. 

Neil frowned at the tiny hatchback.  ‘I thought doctors made a lot of money.’ 

Aaron glared at him.  ‘Excuse me?’

‘Nothing,’ Neil muttered, and got in.

At least he drove better- that is, with more regard for traffic laws- than his brother.  But Neil was already inclined to dislike the man, from what little he’d heard from Andrew, how he’d been careless enough to miss all of Andrew’s calls and leave him believing the worst case scenario, and how he’d made like Andrew was over-reacting.

‘Where is your hotel?’

‘It’s the Foxhole.’

Aaron’s mouth twisted.  ‘You’re staying the same place as Andrew?  Wait, are you two there together?’

‘No,’ Neil said shortly.  ‘What’s it to you, anyway?  Andrew told me the two of you don’t have anything to do with each other, you don’t get along.’

‘Don’t get along?’ Aaron repeated incredulously.  ‘Did he tell you how he attacked and terrorised my wife when we were at college?  And every other person I liked?  Did he tell you about Mom?’ Aaron asked heatedly.  ‘No, I thought not.  Don’t assume you know shit about our relationship.’

‘I think you’ll find that it was you who brought up the relationships, so why don’t you take your own advice and back off?’ Neil suggested.  ‘And also, we’re here already.’

Aaron swore, dodged across to the left hand lane, and pulled up sharply at the curb.  As soon as they stopped, Neil was out and on his feet, eager to get some distance between himself and Andrew’s aggravating twin before he gave into the temptation to hit him.

Aaron rolled down the window before Neil could make his escape.  ‘Just fucking watch yourself around my brother.  I know the police are looking for you, so you better not try anything if you don’t fancy seeing the inside of a cell.’

The car pulled away, leaving Neil’s fists itching.

He deliberated on the sidewalk for a moment, then crossed to an alley that went down the side of the foxhole.  He was too restless to go inside and lock himself up in the hotel room.  Besides that, he usually snuck straight up the back staircase after his shift.  If he went in now, he’d have to get past the security and front desk somehow, without being recognised.  A guest arriving at  almost three AM would surely be a curiosity, and the bored night shift receptionist would remember it.

He stripped down to his undershirt, folding the jacket and dress shirt up neatly, then changed the irritatingly clingy trousers for sweats.  He slid the small stack of folded clothes under the dumpster.  He didn’t like wasting money like that, but they were nothing he would wear again, and he didn’t want to lug around dead weight in his bag.  Hopefully someone living on the streets would find them and put them to use.

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Ball Part 2!! Kinda? Anyway, have some Minyard/Hemmick family interaction!  
> I decided to post a little early this week, because I’m about to get busy. Happy Easter y’all!  
> Thanks for the amazing comments * hugs *


	8. VIII Bait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Neil is working as a maid in The Foxhole hotel and squatting in one of the empty rooms. Neil strikes up a friendship with Andrew Minyard, world-class Exy player and the guest in the room below. Andrew blackmails Neil into coming to the The Shooting Stars Ball. However, Andrew has to leave the ball in a hurry, dragging Neil out of the nearest exit- which happens to be lined with paparazzi. At the hospital, Nicky is awake, so Andrew stays and Neil heads back to the hotel and takes off for a run.

**VIII**

**Bait**

‘Andrew.  Andrew.  Andrew.’

Andrew rolled over and swore into his pillow.  Then he rolled back and swore loudly enough for whoever was pounding on his room’s door to hear.

Who was he kidding?  He knew exactly who it was.  Only one person he knew had the arrogance and sheer stupidity to wake him up like this.

‘Andrew Minyard, I know you’re in there!’

Maybe if he left him out there long enough the hotel security would deal with the bastard.  He’d been pounding on the door for a solid ten minutes, so he was definitely disturbing the other guests, not that he would care.  On the other hand, he’d probably already charmed the hotel staff into turning a blind eye.

Why did these things happen to him?  Why did he get to deal with this after only two hours sleep?

Andrew shoved the covers back and stomped over to the door.  He yanked it open, and Kevin Day half fell into the room.  Andrew caught him, and let him feel the tip of his knife against his stomach.  Kevin looked more affronted than afraid.

‘Why are you here?’ Andrew asked.

‘Why are _you_ here?  Still?’ ‘Is it because of _him_?’  Kevin demanded, brandishing a newspaper at Andrew.

Andrew stilled.  ‘Who?’

He snatched the paper from Kevin, and scanned the front page.  The picture caught him mid-stride on the steps of the Met, dragging Neil behind him.  From the angle of the photograph, it appeared as if they were holding hands. 

Neil was going to freak out.

‘Andrew Minyard, Exy star, leaves the Met with mystery man,’ Andrew read aloud.  ‘Why is this garbage front page?’  

‘Andrew, I’ve told you what coming out would do to your career!’ Kevin half-yelled.  ‘You might lose your place on Court!  Why couldn’t this wait-‘

‘Shut up,’ Andrew told the irritation, and shuffled into the little kitchenette.  He dumped a couple of sachets of instant coffee in a mug, three sugar sachets, and topped it up with boiling water and milk. 

Kevin continued all the while, ranting at Andrew’s back: ‘You’ve missed almost a month of practise!  You can’t afford to miss training like that if you want to keep your place on the team.  And there’s no point me training with Thompson in the goal, it’s a complete waste of time.’

Andrew turned, and shoved Kevin out of his way with a shoulder as he passed.  He opened the door to the balcony.  Outside it was just cold enough to tolerate for the sake of a smoke.  Dropping down cross-legged on the stone, Andrew pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lit up. 

‘You shouldn’t smoke either.  It’s terrible for your lung capacity, and constricts arteries too.  It’s long past time you quit, and I know that coach agrees.’

A small part of Andrew wished Kevin hadn’t given up drinking a few years since.  Mentioning his alcohol consumption had been the best and only way to shut him up about Andrew smoking.  On the other hand, the man was even more annoying drunk than he was sober, if such a thing were possible.

‘I’m staying until Christmas,’ he told Kevin.

‘Christmas?  That’s more than a week away!  You can’t-‘

‘I can, and if you try and tell me otherwise, I will leave your team permanently.   None of the rest of the team will be at practise anyway.’

‘None of the rest of the team will make court,’ Kevin said.

‘A minute ago it didn’t sound like you thought I would make court now either.’

Kevin sighed sharply, like Andrew was being difficult.  After a moment, his tense shoulders sagged, and he propped both elbows on the railing.  He looked out at New York.

‘You won’t be cut from court.  I didn’t mean that, about you coming out.  Professional sports are a different world now, and Jeremy and Jean already broke the ice for Exy players.  You should still talk to the publicist, she’s been calling you every hour since the story broke.’

Andrew waved the comment away.  He didn’t need a publicist to advise him on something he didn’t even want to be public.  He wasn’t trying to make any kind of statement. 

‘Your image matters Andrew- ‘ Kevin cut himself off abruptly.  The effort not to lecture was almost turning Kevin’s face red.  It was like watching a dog trying to walk on its hind legs.

‘I know why you came here though.  Nicky texted me from hospital, that’s how I found out where you were.  Just- don’t stay too long.  Don’t let this,’ Kevin waved the newspaper again,’ distract you from what’s important.  Court.’

‘Court.’ Andrew echoed dully. 

Once, he cared nothing at all for Exy, or had though he didn’t.  Over the years, as feeling and colour had bled back into his life, whether he wanted them or not, he’d come to feel… something for Exy.  Bee had suggested that it was unnecessary to try and label every emotion and motivation, that putting them in a category could be restrictive and make it harder to acknowledge that they would change over time, so he didn’t try to qualify the emotion any further.  Something was enough.  It was more than he’d ever thought he’d have.

‘Who is he, anyway?,’ Kevin asked.  ‘I promise I won’t meddle, I’ll leave you alone until you decide to come back, I just want to know.’

‘He’s no one,’ Andrew said.  ‘I’m just here for Nicky.’

 

***

 

Someone was following Neil.

At first, the sensation had been no more than a slight itch on the back of his neck, just enough to make him uncomfortable, to make him push himself to go a little harder, a little faster.

 

But now he could hear the heavy breaths echoing even over the pre-dawn traffic, he could hear the footsteps matching his.

The sidewalk was lined with dingy warehouses, all with blank, empty windows.  On the other side of the road a chain link fence topped with razor-wire separated a junkyard that looked half-abandoned.  A van turned into the street and Neil contemplated jumping in front of it, forcing the driver to stop, but it was gone before he could make a decision. 

Neil turned abruptly off into a side road, giving himself the opportunity to glance back at his tail without it being obvious: the last thing he wanted was to let them know he’d noticed them.  It was a man, tall and broad but oldish, a few years past his prime, to judge from the glimpse of greying hair and lined face. 

As soon as he turned the corner, Neil broke into a sprint, running hard enough to send bolts of pain up his shins when his tattered sneakers collided with the sidewalk.  He thought he caught a muffled curse behind him, but the footsteps fell further and behind with every step. 

Relief washed through Neil as he began to recognise his surroundings.  He just needed to take another left, and then right, and he’d be onto a busy shopping street, where they’d be witnesses even this early in the morning.  He zigzagged across the road, reached the corner- and froze.

A small posse of men stood waiting in the centre of the road.

Neil realised he wasn’t being followed.  He was being herded.

He spun on the spot and dug his feet into the asphalt.  Only one man had been following him.  Neil preferred those odds over five to one.

‘Nathaniel!’ 

Neil stumbled.  The accent was unmistakably British, specifically Birmingham.

‘I just want to talk, Nathaniel, I promise!’

Neil hesitated, and almost against his better judgment, he looked back.

The men weren’t attempting to follow him, but one had stepped forward, the one who had called out to Neil.

Neil stopped entirely, and turned towards the man.

‘It’s me.  Stuart.  Nathaniel, do you remember me?’

Neil nodded slowly.  ‘Uncle Stuart.  I didn’t…’

As Stuart stepped forward again, and Neil noticed him favouring his left leg.  Around his right thigh, the material of his trousers bunched up a little, like they were caught on something wrapped around his thigh.  Something like a bandage, Neil thought with a sinking feeling, as he looked more closely at Stuart’s face. 

He hadn’t recognised him on sight, since the last and only time he’d met Stuart was for a few days when he was ten, and completely disorientated by the sudden upheaval of his life.  Something in his face still spoke to Neil though- something about the thin mouth and laugh lines that made him feel faintly sick, made him smell the smoke again.

A few things slid into place in Neil’s mind.  ‘Did- did you break into my apartment?’

Stuart looked a little guilty.  ‘Sorry about that.  But we need to talk.’

Neil looked around at the empty street, then at Stuart, who was still standing a few metres away, with his men further.  If Neil chose, he could still run.

‘Alright,’ Neil said.  ‘We can talk, but not here.  And don’t call me that, my name is Neil now.’

 

***

 

 Neil had just started to shiver as the frigid December morning chilled his sweat-damped clothes, and Stuart had been looking increasingly concerned, so the warm coffee-scented air of the café was a relief.

He led Stuart to a table at the back, a good distance from the few other customers.  Stuart had sent away his men, so it was just the two of them.  Neil got the feeling Stuart was trying not to spook him again.  They sat and ordered, coffee for Stuart and plain black tea for Neil.

Neil shifted awkwardly and gestured at Stuart’s leg.  ‘I’m sorry about…’  he trailed off.  It seemed unwise to admit to stabbing Stuart in a public place.

‘Yeah, well…’ Stuart touched his own stomach, where he’d cut Neil.  ‘I swear that was a fucking accident.  I meant to come in real quiet, wake you up gently, but then I knock a glass of the side and scared the shit out of myself, and next thing I know someone’s trying to stab me.  I guess instincts took over.’

Neil considered that, and took a mouthful of tea.  He’d stabbed Stuart first, and he’d done more damage- a wound to the femoral artery trumped a shallow stomach wound any day.  And he could hardly judge Stuart for reacting instinctively, when instincts where what kept people like them alive.

‘I guess I startled you too.’

‘Ah, it was all my fault,’ Stuart said, waving his words away.  ‘I had to talk to you, but I couldn’t risk making a scene in the open.   I’d only draw more attention to you. I didn’t really know how you’d react to seeing me again, since Mary told me pretty emphatically that I was never to contact either of you again.’

His expression darkened as he thought of his sister.  ‘She was stubborn as a mule, our Mary.  Nat- Neil, is she- ?’

Neil stared into his mug.  ‘Yeah.  Black coast in California, five years ago.’

Stuart went quiet for a moment, but the hard lines of his face spoke of more anger than grief.  ‘Yeah.  I guess I knew already.’

He looked up, fixing a glare on Neil.  ‘I knew because I found you.  What the hell is going on, Nat- Neil?  Why the fuck have you been here for six months?’

‘I.  I just didn’t want to run, alright.  I’m tired, I can’t just keep going like that, alone, I can’t-‘

Stuart raised a hand, and Neil flinched back.  Stuart stilled, then slowly lowered his hand and placed them both flat on the table where Neil could see them.  ‘I didn’t come here to chew you out.  Your life is your own, and I respect that.  I would never hurt you- well, not on purpose, I mean. You’re the last of the Hatford line, did you know that?’

‘No.  We never talked about family.’

‘I suppose not,’ Stuart sighed.  ‘But, Nathaniel.  I’ve been trying to trace your footsteps for three years.  If I’ve found you, you know what that means.’

Neil’s mug rattled loudly against its saucer as he put it down.  If Stuart, working in a country he didn’t know, with a fraction of the men and contacts his father had, had found Neil, it meant that Nathan could only be half a step behind.  If he wasn’t here already.  He closed his eyes for a moment.  Strangely, he found himself remembering Andrew’s hand on the back of his neck, the way he’d calmed Neil down while they sat in the car in front of the Met.  Just remembering helped to slow his breathing.

‘Why are you here?’ Neil asked hollowly.

Stuart leant back in his chair, looking a like the question stung a little, but Neil wasn’t in the right frame of mind to be worrying about other people’s sensibilities. 

‘Over the last ten years, I’ve been working on my American contacts.  The bastard has shaken everyone down looking for the two of you; allies, enemies, neutrals.  He’s pissed everyone off, but no one in this country wants to be the first to move against him.  But if someone from the outside came in, who wasn’t connected to anyone else?  Turns out that the other players would be content to keep it quiet and not give any trouble.’

Neil frowned.  ‘You made a deal?  None of the other… families give you any trouble, so that you can take over from Nathan?’

Stuart gave him a sharp smile.  ‘Not just the families, kid.  We’re talking bigwigs, and the feds too.’

‘So, are you gonna tell me the plan?’ Neil asked.

Stuart’s confident smile sank a little.  ‘Yeah.  Well.  To make this go smoothly, the high-ups want him to die dirty.  Stops any friends he has left causing trouble after.  So, we need to catch him red-handed, something simple to understand but sensational.’

He shifted in his chair, looking increasingly uneasy.  ‘If the old conviction, that he killed his family, could be proven…’

Neil blinked at him.  ‘You want me to die?’

‘Christ, Nat- Neil, did you listen to that bit where I said I didn’t want to hurt you?’

‘But you do want to use me.’

‘Yeah, well.  If we get rid of the bastard, it helps both of us, right?  You stop running, I get to blow his face off and get a foothold in Baltimore, everyone wins.’

Neil considered him.  He didn’t know why his mother was so adamant to avoid Stuart, when the man had offered to give them a home all those years ago.  There might have been a good reason that she never told him, but then again, it may have been paranoia or pride.  Or maybe she knew that one day it would come to this:  being a piece in someone else’s plan.

She would have beat him to hell and back for considering a plan that put him into Nathan’s reach. 

‘What do you need me to do?’ Neil asked.

 

***

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> I'm so sorry this chapter is up so late! I've had a really crazy week, and literally haven't had a moment to post. I'm also way behind on answering comments, but I figured getting this up was more important ;)
> 
> I recently watched the last series of Peaky Blinders, and I may be imagining Stuart as Tommy Shelby…. Because I love him 
> 
> Next time…. The Angstᵀᴹ
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


	9. IX Collateral Damage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * cackles * here comes the angst
> 
> Previously: Neil is working as a maid in The Foxhole hotel and squatting in one of the empty rooms. He strikes up a friendship with Andrew Minyard, world-class Exy player and the guest in the room below, and they go to the Shooting Stars Ball together. After the Ball, Neil is reunited with Stuart, and realises his father cannot be far behind. Stuart offers Neil a chance to keep his life at the Foxhole if Neil will help him end Nathan.

‘And Mr Thompson in the business suite wants the coffee and food trolleys replaced every hour from 11am until 4pm, for a ten person meeting, so I’ve put that onto your rota and taken off a few rooms, alright Allison?  Great.  That’s everything, you can all get going,’ Wymack finished.

The maids immediately began to chatter as the group in front of Wymack broke up.  Neil was at the back, having waited halfway down the back staircase from his room until the last possible moment before signing in.

At the front of the group, he saw Allison- and from the way she was scanning the crowd, he guessed she was looking for him.  Neil sidled quickly over to Matt and let his bulk shield him from Allison’s gaze.  Neil was not ready for the interrogation she was surely planning. 

‘Hey Neil- when did you change out?  You missed the news!’ Matt said.

‘I was late,’ Neil answered absently, more focused on avoiding Allison than whatever gossip was making the rounds that day.

‘Andrew Minyard has a boyfriend!  They went to the Met Ball together-‘

‘A _what_ ,’ Neil said.

‘A boyfriend?  Yeah, no one really knew he was gay, or bi, or whatever he is.  But, the real question is, _who is he with_?  Because no one knows who the guy is.’ Matt pulled out his phone and opened his news app.  He showed the screen to Neil.  ‘Look, you can hardly see his face, and no one’s come forward yet.’

Neil tried to will the flush from his cheeks and the tremors from his hands.  When that didn’t work, he jammed them in his pockets.  ‘Why does anyone care?  For one, they might be friends, or just a one night stand.  If he hasn’t said anything you shouldn’t assume.’

Matt waved away his protest.  ‘If he went with a woman, no one would doubt that they were dating.  And no one take a one night stand to the Met, Neil.’

Neil’s skin was crawling.  Every time he blinked the photograph flashed behind his eyes.

Dan caught up to them.  ‘Are you telling Neil about Minyard’s secret boyfriend?’

‘No,’ Neil forced out between numb lips.  ‘Excuse me, I think I forgot something.’  He spun on his heel and half-ran back down the corridor.  He turned the corner and stumbled to a stop in front of a door labelled ‘utility cupboard’.  Judging by the jarring metallic noise as he heaved the door to, it hadn’t been opened in some time.  Inside it was empty, with a thin carpet of dust.  Whatever purpose the room had once had, it was long since forgotten.

Neil let the door close behind him.  The only light was from the crack under the door.  He slid down until he sat with his back to the close wall, his feet braced against the doorframe to keep himself upright while he struggled to catch his breath.

_‘Stay in the hotel,’ Stuart told him.  ‘Make him come to you.  Don’t even set a foot outside if you can help it.  We’ll keep a watch over everything, everyone coming and going, and that way we’ll be there when he goes for you.’_

That had been the plan.  Neil had agreed to that.  But he hadn’t agreed to collateral damage, and Andrew hadn’t agreed to anything at all.

He and Andrew were front page news. 

It didn’t matter that he was looking away from the camera.  It didn’t matter that what could be seen of his face was blurred and shadowed.  It didn’t matter that his hair was dyed brown and his eyes hidden behind murky contacts.  There was not a chance in a hell that the Butcher and all his men would miss a full size front page photograph of Neil.

He had been a fool.  He’d thought he could break his mother’s rules and suffer nothing.  He’d chosen to forget that he was a poison, that he was as deadly as one of his father’s blades, leaving the same trail of death and destruction in his wake.

It was too late to run, and besides- if he managed to disappear, Andrew would be their first port of call.  The only way he could save Andrew was by making sure that his father got to Neil first.  His only option was to stick to the plan.  And for the plan to work, he had to keep pretending that everything was normal, or else risk his father becoming suspicious of a trap.

All Neil wanted was to hide in this tiny, dark cupboard for the remainders of his probably negligible lifespan.

He forced himself back onto his feet, and back to work.  He went to the supplies room, grabbed and stocked a trolley, and headed to the fifth floor.  Oddly enough, he found the repetitive routine soothing; the scrubbing and the vacuuming, even the acrid smell of the bleach.  Neil lost himself in the motions so familiar he hardly had to think about them.

A voice cried out sharply.

Neil was on his feet and stumbling backwards purely on instinct, until his back hit the wall. It took him a moment to realise that the sound came from the corridor, loud enough to travel through the walls.  It took him another to realise that the voices were not crying out in pain, but in laughter.

His heart stuttered and resumed its rhythm.  He pressed his shaking hands against the wall and waited while the voices grew distant, and then ceased altogether.

In his blind panic, he’d knocked over a bottle of cleaner that was leaking slowly onto the beige carpet.  He shoved himself away from the wall and hurried to mop it up before it could mark.

With the adrenaline still pumping, it was impossible to ignore his thoughts any longer, the thought he’d been trying to silence since he’d walked away from his meeting with Stuart.

There was still one thing he could do to protect Andrew. 

He could sever their ties completely. 

He could stop all contact between them.  No more talking to Andrew, no more smoking with Andrew, no more laughing with Andrew.  No more kissing Andrew.

It was all that he could do.

 

***

 

Neil paused in the entrance to the canteen, trying to spot any unfamiliar faces.  A hand grabbed his elbow and he flinched violently, but managed to pull his punch at the last second.

‘Christ, Neil, chill the fuck out!’ Allison said.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered.  ‘You caught me by surprise.’

‘Damn right I did- since you’ve been trying to avoid me all day.’  Allison’s tone was harsher than Neil had heard it in a long time. 

When they’d first met, they hadn’t hit it off.  Allison liked to know everything about everyone, and she would pick and pry until she got what she wanted.  Neil held his peace for a good few months, and each time she tried to interrogate him her tone got a little sharper.  Eventually, Neil told her what he thought of her and where she could stick her questions.  After a tense moment, Allison had broken into laughter and told him he was the most clammed-up, anti-social son of a bitch she’d ever met.  Somehow Allison decided that this exchange was a good basis for a friendship, and from then on he rarely heard her speak in that way.

Neil felt suddenly guilty.  He hadn’t meant to hurt her.

‘I’m sorry- it’s not about you, I swear,’ he said.

Allison softened a fraction.  ‘Alright.  But you can make it up to me by sitting over here and telling me _all_ about your date.’

She dragged him across the room to an empty table at the back.  It was noisy enough in the canteen that they wouldn’t be overheard.

‘So?’

Neil bit down on his lip.  He’d been avoiding Allison because he wasn’t ready for this.  Last night was still too close, too intimate for him to lie smoothly.  He hadn’t had time to settle on a story.

Allison jabbed a finger in his face.  ‘I know that look, Josten.  Don’t think you can lie to me.  You owe me for keeping this a secret when _everyone_  is talking about it, so ‘fess up.’

‘Alright, alright.  It was… nice.  It was really nice.  I- I actually enjoyed it.’  Allison grinned hugely, but Neil couldn’t bear to have her congratulate him, so he went on quickly.  ‘But I can’t see him again.  I can’t-’  He stopped abruptly, as his voice began to shake a little.

Allison frowned.  ‘Why?  What did he do?  Is it because you’re a maid?’

‘No.  I didn’t tell him. He thinks that I’m a guest.’ Neil said, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

‘Oh, honey,’ Allison said, taking his hand.  ‘Don’t be like this.  You shouldn’t be embarrassed of what you do.’

Neil laughed hollowly.  ‘It was just stupid.  He’s the best goalkeeper Exy has ever seen, and I’m…’  _Nothing.  He was nothing._

‘Don’t let stupid shit like money and class get to you, it’s all bullshit,’ Allison said.

‘I’d just.  I’d rather not talk about it.’

‘Okay.  I won’t ask you anything else then.  Just don’t beat yourself up about this, sweetie.  Relationships are hard,’ Allison said. 

She spent the rest of the break talking about her own love life, which usually Neil would do almost anything to escape, but today he was grateful for it.  He only had to nod along, and make alternately indignant or soothing noises.

Before she left him, she reached across the table to give him a cautious hug.  ‘I know it feels bad right now.  But it will be alright.  Life goes on.’

She was right.  Life went on, day after day after day of limbo, of waiting, of endless suspense and scant sleep.

Neil offered himself for every extra shift.  With just over a week until Christmas, Dan was grateful for any overtime he could take on.  He arrived early enough to be changed out and away before any of the foxes set foot in the hotel. 

Their conversations carried on around him, jokes and laughter that was somehow distant. He managed to respond to most direct questions, but couldn't seem to get beyond monosyllables:

Fine.

Busy.

Yes.

No.

He just couldn't find the energy to give them more than that- and it was better this way, in the end.  He needed them to forget about him, to fade out of their minds once again. Soon- days, hours, minutes perhaps - he would be dead, or a hairsbreadth from it, and all he could do was try to contain the fallout.

'Neil. Neil. Neil!'

Dan was talking to him

‘Sorry.  What?’

‘Are you alright?’ Dan asked, her expression serious.  Neil went to answer, but before he could reassure her she silenced him with a pointed finger.

 ‘Don’t just tell me you’re fine, I’m sick of that bullshit.  You’ve been someplace else this whole week, and not somewhere good, either.  Neil, would you please tell me what’s going on?  I’m worried about you.  We’re all worried.’

Neil stared at her, wordless.  He could tell her that he hadn’t really slept in a week, or that he was so tired he had to force his eyes to open again every time he blinked, or that he couldn’t seem to stop his hands from shaking. 

Dan took a slow step forward, and reached for his face.  For a delirious moment, Neil vividly remembered Andrew leaning in like this, before he kissed Neil.  But Dan only put a hand on his forehead. 

Her palm brushed his fringe back, and she hissed when she touched his forehead.  ‘Christ.  You’re burning up, kiddo.’

Neil blinked at her, and touched his forehead.  It was a little warmer than normal.

‘I’m fine,’ he said.

‘Neil.  Do you know what day it is?’

He frowned at her.  ‘It’s… Tuesday?’

‘I thought not,’ she said, grimly satisfied.  ‘You’re delirious.  It’s Christmas fucking Eve, Neil.  And it’s also Friday, for the record.  You need to go home and take some time off, and you know, celebrate Christmas like a normal human being.’

‘No, I’m-‘

Dan actually growled at him.  ‘No, you are not fine.  You are very, very sick.  Go home, you moron, or I swear I’ll call security and get you escorted out.’

Dan’s phone buzzed, and she pulled it out.  After a brief conversation, she covered the speaker and turned back to Neil.  ‘I have to go deal with this.  You have to go home, right now.  That’s an order, alright.’

‘Okay, I’ll go home,’ Neil repeated.

Dan glared at him suspiciously, but after a moment the urgency of her call won out over her need to fuss over Neil, and she half-jogged away, talking rapidly on the phone.

Neil only had two more rooms to clean.  He could “go home” after he finished.

Inside the room it was blissfully tidy.  Dan had definitely overreacted: Neil was not sick, but his legs did feel like they might give out soon if he didn’t manage to rest, and his vision was starting to blur and slide in a way that made him feel faintly nauseous.

He could just rest for a moment, just a five minute break to give him enough strength to finish the room and head upstairs.  Neil took off his shoes and sat cross-legged on the bed, leaning back against the head rest.  He slowly slid forward over the sheets until he was lying almost horizontal, and he couldn’t seem to move himself upright again.

His eyes drifted shut.  Just five minutes…

 

***

 

Andrew swirled his finger though the ring of spilt coffee on the sticky café table and let Nicky’s chatter wash over him.  It wasn’t that he didn’t care- to his surprise, he had realised over the long, grey years after graduation that he did care about Nicky and what was going on in his life.  However, he wasn’t sure anyone but Erik could handle the level of detail Nicky was all too capable of.  In fact, he’d even noticed Erik going slightly glassy eyed when Nicky got onto the minutiae of politics in his work department.

‘Anyway, since I was discharged on Wednesday, and finally found my phone again- I cannot _believe_ I went a whole week without it, who even am I now- Luisa has been texting me non-stop, because there was crazy drama over the timesheets.’  Nicky finally paused for breath, and downed to now cold dregs of his coffee.  He waved at a waiter, who immediately refilled the cup. 

‘Thanks,’ Nicky told the waiter, and turned back to Andrew.  ‘Did you know free refills aren’t a thing in Germany?  I really missed that.  Anyway, how are all the Atlanta Devils?’

Andrew sighed.  ‘Most are fine.  One came very close to being stabbed last week.’

‘Oh my God!  Kevin was here?’ Nicky asked.

‘Outside my hotel room at six am.’

Nicky paled.  ‘And you’re referring to him in past tense.  Andrew did you-’

‘I didn’t kill him.  Only maimed him a little.’

‘You know what?  Serves him right.  I can’t believe he was in New York and didn’t come and see me!’

‘Since he was here to drag me over the coals for visiting you, that would have been a little hypocritical.  Not that hypocrisy has ever worried him before.’

‘He was here to- ugh, that heartless jerk.  It’s a good thing he’s so hot, or I’d never forgive him.  Talking of hot, when exactly were you planning to tell me about your super cute boyfriend?’

‘He’s not,’ Andrew said.

‘Not what?  Not your boyfriend?  Not super cute?’

‘Not anything.’

Nicky’s face fell.  ‘But… you took him to the met?  And you made Aaron drive him home?  And, I’m like 99.9% sure you kissed him?’

Andrew levelled a blank look at Nicky.

‘Andrew, what happened?  Did… did he do something?’

‘No.’

‘Didn’t you like him?’ Nicky asked, frowning in confusion.

Andrew didn’t have the energy to answer stupid questions, so he let his expression speak for him.

‘Andrew,’ Nicky said gently, ‘This seems like a shame.  I know I only saw you with Neil for a few minutes, but you just looked… alive, I guess.  You don’t seem like that today.  Have you talked to Betsy?’ Nicky asked.

‘She is not my therapist any more,’ Andrew reminded him.

‘I know you still talk to her, Andrew, don’t deflect.’

Andrew had not talked to Betsy since he came to New York.  He knew it would upset Bee if he called her, because she would know from the second he spoke that he was regressing to mechanisms they both thought he’d left behind.  Though he couldn’t bring himself to care, he knew Bee would. 

‘I’m really sorry that it’s not working out, Andrew.  But we’re still here, alright?  Your family.  So even if you don’t feel like it, and I get that, I do, please come to Aaron’s tomorrow?  Nobody should be by themselves on Christmas day.’

Andrew took in Nicky’s pleading expression, and thought about the man that had stood by him no matter what the cost, without expecting anything from him.

‘I’ll come.’

Nicky’s enthusiasm was a little too much too handle, so they left the café soon after.  Andrew drove Nicky to Aaron’s- although he was recovering fast, his breathing was still too laboured to allow him to walk any distance, and definitely not in the icy December wind.  He’d visited Nicky there already a few times, until he was cleared to leave the house and suggested they meet up elsewhere.  Andrew didn’t know if Nicky thought it would be easier for them to talk away from Aaron’s heavy presence or if he was just sick of being cooped up.

Since the night of the Met, Andrew had not seen Neil.  As far as he could tell, there was no longer a guest above him- and he could hardly ask the hotel management if the illegal occupant had switched rooms.  He had no way of contacting Neil, but Neil knew exactly where to find him.  Clearly, he chose not to. 

Andrew told himself over the dull ache in his chest that _this was not unexpected._

When he reached his room, his cigarette carton was already in his hand, so he fumbled left-handed with his key-card and shoved the door open with his shoulder- and stopped in the doorway.

Somebody was in his bed.

For a moment, Andrew wondered if he was in the wrong room- but that was ridiculous, his key-card had worked, and he could see his sweater draped over the back of the armchair, and his suitcase on the other side of the bed.

He stepped soundlessly over the threshold, placing his feet carefully.  His fingers curled up, resting on the edge of his armbands.  Since the trespasser seemed to be deeply asleep, he didn’t draw his knives just yet.

The trespasser was sleeping on their side, facing the door, but their face was hidden by a fold of blanket.  Andrew gently twitched it back.

Neil was sleeping in his bed.

Andrew wanted to smash something.  He wanted to wake Neil with a fist to his face.  He wanted him out of his bed, out of his room, out of his life, so he would never feel like this again. 

Once, when Andrew was young, he’d slipped while climbing a tree and fallen two metres before landing flat on his back.  The sickening lurch, the knowledge that _this was going to hurt,_ the feeling like his lungs had shrunk to a quarter of their normal capacity, and he couldn’t get enough air no matter what- this is what it had felt like.

How had Neil even gotten into his room?  Had he picked the lock, like he had with the room above?  Why had he disappeared for a week only to appear in Andrew’s bed?

In the corner of the room, there was a trolley stocked with cleaning products.  Andrew frowned, and looked more closely at Neil’s white button-up shirt- and picked out on the breast was a tiny orange fox-paw.

Andrew thought back to their first conversation: _I come here so often I almost live here anyway._   It seemed he was not as smart as he liked to think.  He should have worked this out before now.

Someone couldn’t walk in here right off the street and break into a room.  They’d need to know the layout.  They’d need to know where the security cameras were.  They’d need to know which rooms were empty.

Neil didn’t look peaceful.  His eyes were twitching behind his lids, and his breath hitched occasionally.  When he was conscious, Neil’s smiles, even when bitter or tinged with irony, were fascinating enough to distract from the bruise-like shadows under his eyes.  In sleep it was impossible to ignore the gauntness of his features.   He looked like he needed to sleep for another week.

Andrew supposed he didn’t need his bed for another few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was uhhhh introspection heavy… hope it didn’t read too clunky! Do we know the name of Andrew’s pro team? I couldn’t find it anywhere so I just made it up.  
> I’m sorry the updates are a little irregular at the moment! I’m into exam period so everything’s a little crazy.


	10. X  Shatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Neil is working as a maid in The Foxhole hotel and squatting in one of the empty rooms. He strikes up a friendship with Andrew Minyard, world-class Exy player and the guest in the room below, and they go to the Shooting Stars Ball together. Neil is reunited with Stuart, who offers Neil a chance to keep his life at the Foxhole if Neil will act as bait to draw Nathan in. Neil agrees, but is unwilling to put Andrew in harm’s way, so decides to cut him off for his own good. After a week or so of constant anxiety, Neil is worn to the bone and becomes confused and feverish. Halfway through cleaning a room, he crawls into the bed and falls asleep, not realising that he’s in Andrew’s room. Andrew returns and finds Neil. Despite being hurt by Neil avoiding him, he decides to let him sleep.
> 
> Quick warning for homophobic language towards the beginning of this chapter. If you’d prefer not to read, just drop a comment and I can let you know exactly where it is/what happens so you can avoid it.

**X**

**Shatter**

Sunlight streamed in between the strips of the blinds no one had thought to close.  

Neil thought that he must be late for his shift, but the bed was too warm and soft to even consider leaving, so he just laid there and lazily watched the patterns of sun and shade slowly shifting through the room as it rose. 

His eyes stung from the brightness, so he let his head fall to one side.

Andrew was slumped in the chair across the room, cheeks flushed pink from sleep.

The thought that he’d been sleeping locked in a room with another person didn’t incite the panic it should have.  The sense of peace lasted only until he remembered why he couldn’t be here.

He sat bolt upright.

Andrew’s eyes fluttered open.

Neil said, ‘ _I can’t be here_.’

Andrew’s expression closed down, the loose lines of his body tightening.

‘Leave then.’

Neil hesitated.  Andrew was always reserved, but Neil didn’t think he’d ever heard that tone in Andrew’s voice- an icy, dangerous edge.  Andrew hated Neil.  That was what he’d said, but suddenly Neil was uncertain.

‘Andrew.  It’s not safe, if I’m here.  For you.  I’m putting you in danger.’

Andrew stared at Neil, his eyebrows raised.

Neil sighed shakily.  ‘I guess you could say that the past has caught up with me.’

‘Your father?’ Andrew asked.

‘And Co.  It’s only a matter of time before they find me.  I just.  I don’t want anyone to go down with me,’ Neil said, the words scraping out of him.

‘I will stop him.’

Andrew’s hazel eyes blazed into Neil.  He looked certain enough, strong enough, to shelter Neil from all of his demons.  Neil wanted so badly to lean on someone else, to find someone to hide behind.  But he couldn’t have that, so he just shook his head slowly.

Andrew stood up sharply.

The door burst open inwards with a terrible screech of hinges tearing and wood splintering.

Lola Malcom walked in.  Romero Malcom followed her.  Jackson Plank followed him.

Neil was out of the bed, he was heading to the window, he was-

‘Oh, Junior!  Aren’t you even going to introduce us to your boyfriend?’

Lola’s sickeningly familiar sing-song voice froze his blood in his veins.

_Run, Abram!_

_I’m sorry, Mom._

He turned.  Romero had gone straight for Andrew.  His cheek was bleeding freely from a long diagonal slash, but he had Andrew pinned to the floor- although barely, as Andrew continued to struggle and almost succeeded in throwing him off.

‘Hey, Jack, a little help?  The fag’s got knives.’

Plank walked over, taking a gun from his holster, and pressed it to Andrew’s head.

‘Andrew.  Stop.’ Neil croaked.

Andrew stilled.

With his free hand, Plank forced Andrew’s arms flat against the carpet, and removed the knives from his hands.

Lola was grinning like a jack-o-lantern.  ‘This is great, Junior.  You’ve saved us so much time!  We came here cuz we thought with a little persuasion, your pouf would be able to point us in whatever direction you’d bolted.  Guess you weren’t quick enough this time.’

‘Fuck you,’ Neil said.

‘Rome.  Hit the fag,’ Lola sang.

Neil stumbled forwards, hands held out helplessly.  _‘Stop.’_

Romero looked up at Neil, one eyebrow raised almost inquisitively.  Then he hit Andrew in the side.

‘Hey, you really like this kid, Nate?  You kinda sound like you went and got attached to someone.  Bet your bitch mother is tearing her hair out.  Where is she?’ Lola asked.

‘She’s dead,’ Neil said.  ‘She died five years ago, after Seattle.’

Romero snorted.  ‘Yeah, right.  Pull the other one, kid.’  He pulled his arm back again, but Lola stopped him with a sharp gesture.

‘I don’t think he’s lying, Rome.  The bitch would never let him out of her sight.  And you know she wouldn’t stop running.’

Romero blew out a slow breath.  ‘I guess.  But we might as well be sure.’

‘We can be sure on the road.  I don’t like hanging around in here, anyone could walk in.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Neil said.  ‘I’ll come, I won’t say anything, just leave him here.  Please, just leave him here.’

Lola hummed.  ‘You know what, that might just work!  Plank, you stay with blondie.  Me, Rome and Nate will head off, and if Junior tries anything, you can shoot Minyard.’

Neil’s slender hope crumbled.  If he left Andrew here with Plank, whether he fought the Malcolms or not, there was no way Andrew would be alive at the end of it.  On the other hand, if he did anything else, Andrew would die right now. 

Neil had to try.  He had to give Andrew every chance.

Andrew wrenched against Romero’s hold, twisting until his eyes found Neil. 

He said, ‘ _Don’t_ -‘

Plank fired his gun into the air. 

‘Don’t fucking try me,’ he roared.

‘Okay,’ Neil said unevenly. 

He crossed the room, and stood in front of Lola.  She chuckled, and grabbed his chin.  Her nails drew blood.

‘Alright, Junior.  Glad to hear we’re all on the same page.  Rome, let’s go.’

Romero stood, releasing Andrew- but since Plank had his gun pressed to his head, it didn’t improve the situation much.

Lola gave his face a final squeeze, then released him.  She showed him her gun, and tucked it inside her jacket. 

‘You follow Romero.  I’ll follow you.’

Neil stole a final look back at Andrew, who shook his head infinitesimally.  Neil thought _goodbye_ , and followed Romero out of the splintered doorway.

 

***

 

Andrew could feel the muzzle of the gun.  It was as if the metal was cold enough that the chill radiated through the few inches of air between him and the gun, raising the hairs on his neck.

Lola paused only to smirk at Andrew before she followed Neil and Romero out, and let what was left of the door swing shut behind her.

Then they were gone.

‘Alright, you son of a bitch.  Here what’s gonna happen.  I am going to get up and sit in that chair over there.  You will stay there and lie on your fucking face until I decide to shoot you.  Try anything, and I will shoot you immediately, somewhere it will take you a long time to bleed out from.  Capeesh?’

‘Fuck you,’ Andrew said.

Plank stood, and crossed to the armchair in the back corner of the room.

From below them, the faint shouts and the sound of a gunshot reverberated through the hotel.  Andrew’s pulse surged, and his fingernails drew blood from his palms, but he forced himself to stay still.

Heavy footsteps- running, perhaps- grew closer and closer, until Andrew was sure they were pounding up the corridor.  Plank frowned, and stood up from his chair.

A gun fired.

Plank sat back down, with a bullet in his head.

A man stepped through the splintered doorway, gun held out ready to fire again.

Andrew was on his feet the moment Plank was taken out.  He lunged for the door, but there were more people already following the man in.  Andrew ploughed into them, jabbing and shoving, but they forced him back.  Andrew’s desperation boiled over, and even as it became clear he couldn’t make it to the door, he began to hit in earnest, to cause pain, to do _anything_ instead of thinking about where Neil was _right now,_ because of Andrew.  Because Neil thought protecting Andrew was worth his life.

_Stupid fucking matyr._

One of the women forced Andrew back, and pinned him against the wall with the help of a man.  He threw them off.

‘Stop!’ someone yelled.

They immediately stepped back from Andrew.

The man who had spoken eyed him, and Andrew reciprocated.  He was short, but compact and powerful looking.  His short hair was peppered with grey, but there was no slackness in his face or frame to match his years.

‘Andrew Minyard.’

Andrew spat the blood in his mouth at his feet.  ‘Who the fuck are you?’

The man’s lips thinned.  ‘I am Stuart Hatford.  Nathaniel- Neil’s uncle.’

Facially, he had nothing in common with Neil:  gunmetal grey eyes, dark hair, a hard mouth.  Yet in the aesthetic planes of his face, and in his build, there was an undeniable similarity. 

‘And you’re here because?’ Andrew asked.

‘Where is Nathaniel?’ Stuart returned.

Andrew smiled with bloody teeth bared.  ‘I asked first.’

A woman stepped forward, fist raised- but Stuart stopped her with an upraised hand.

‘No, Mara.  He’s loyal to Nathaniel.  That’s good.’  He turned his icy eyes on Andrew.  ‘But the best thing you can do for Nathaniel now is tell me exactly what happened.  I am here to kill his father and anyone who stands with him, and I swear to you that I have no intention of harming Nathaniel.’

‘He never told me he had an uncle,’ Andrew said.

‘Barring the last week, we haven’t been in contact since he was a child.  Mary, his mother, was a Hatford.  But explanation will have to wait, because every moment wasted puts that bastard Wesninski another step ahead of us.  If you want to see Nathaniel alive, you are going to have to trust my word.’

Andrew didn’t trust this man.  He didn’t trust how calmly he discussed Neil’s death, and ‘no intention of harming Neil’ didn’t inspire much faith.  Yet he had no options.  Neil had no options. 

‘He was here, about ten minutes ago.  Two men and a woman broke in.  The woman, Lola, and Romero, took him.  That one stayed,’ Andrew said, gesturing at the body slumped in the chair.

‘Where did they take him?  What did they say?’ the woman, Mara, put in.

‘They didn’t say anything,’ Andrew said roughly.  ‘They just took him.’

‘Shit,’ Stuart swore loudly.  ‘Bloody hell, this is a mess.  Okay, Jason, Breeda, Tom, get down into the lobby and blend in.  Ask questions.  We’re gonna make an exit, draw the attention off you.’

Moving as a unit, the gangsters flooded out of the room and down the corridor.  Andrew caught Stuart’s eye. 

‘I’m coming with you.’

Stuart hesitated, and looked Andrew up and down.  ‘Alright.  Cover your face, we don’t wanna be on ESPN.  And don’t get in the way, because I don’t give a fuck what happens to you.’

Andrew could live with that.  He pulled his hood up over his face and followed Stuart out.

Stuart led them across the deserted lobby.  Mara noticed Andrew looking at the empty reception desk. 

‘Security tried to stop us on the way in.  We had a bit of a tussle, but after a warning shot they backed off and everyone cleared out.  The pigs won’t get here till _we_ call them, though,’ she said with satisfaction.

They burst out the double doors and piled into the idling cars on the curb.  Stuart clambered into the passenger seat of a non-descript black people carrier with dark tint windows, talking fast into a phone.  Mara followed.  She turned around in the door and sought out Andrew, grinned and jerked her head, so he followed her inside.  She slid the door to behind him.

Inside, there were three rows of seats.  Andrew took the last space, on the back row.  Mara leant over the back of the seat in front. 

‘Do you know how to use a gun?’

‘No.’  No one had ever wanted to arm Andrew, and knives were more useful for his purposes.

‘Alright.  Hey, Jan, gimme a 17,’ she called across the car.  Jan dug around in a duffle by his feet and produced a gun, which was passed across to Mara.  She held it up in front of Andrew.

‘This is a 9mm Glock.  Trigger, safety, slide.  You the slide back to load a round into the chamber, like that.  Keep the safety on and don’t point it at anyone unless you’re about to shoot them.  Get it?’

Andrew took the gun, and copied Mara’s grip.  ‘Got it.’

Stuart turned around in the front seat.

‘We’ve lost ‘em, but Jason reckons they were in a grey Ciaz sedan.  The feebs are gonna get the footage, and see if they can track ‘em down.  We’re headed back to base, but don’t settle in.’

A few blocks later, they pulled up outside a low-rise block of offices.  The inside was nicer than the exterior suggested; low leather couches and chairs clustered either side of the walkway to the lift at the back of the room.  There were a few people already seated by the door, apparently casual, but Andrew sensed a kind of awareness from them that made him think that they were paying more attention than they let on.  Perhaps they had been left on guard. 

Most of the group peeled off and settled in around the lounge area.  Stuart and Mara continued on, so Andrew followed after them.  Stuart gave him a considering look when he stepped into the elevator, but didn’t try to stop him.

There was a digital clock above the elevator buttons.  Andrew forced his eyes away from it.  He didn’t want to know how long it had been since Neil had been taken.  He couldn’t think about it, or he’d start hitting again, and that wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Neil.

The second floor was more office like, though it still prioritised comfort.  Stuart headed straight for the intent group clustered around a couple of screens. 

‘You better come with me,’ Mara advised.  ‘I’d give them a wide berth.  It won’t be good for us or for you if to hear too much.’

He dropped into a soft desk chair.  Mara left and returned with coffee and waffles.  Andrew hadn’t eaten yet, so he downed a couple and drained the coffee in a few gulps.

‘How much did Neil tell you about the Hatfords?’ Mara asked.

‘What makes you think he would tell me anything?’ Andrew returned sharply.

Mara grinned at him.

‘He didn’t say much,’ Andrew said grudgingly.  ‘Stuart is his uncle.  He comes from a British crime family.’

‘ _The_ British crime family,’ Mara said.  ‘But yeah.  We’re going international as of now.  The price of moving into the US is Neil’s father.  We take Nathan out, and no one will give us any trouble.’

‘Who are you?’

‘In relation to Neil?   Uh, second cousin.  Or is it twice removed?  My mother was cousin to Mary.  Mary had kind of a difficult relationship with the family, though.  She was… an interesting  woman.’

‘Do you tell your family history to every random you pick up while you’re on a hit, or am I just lucky?’ Andrew asked.

‘Well, since you’re his boyfriend, you’re bound to find out sooner or later.’  Mara was grinning again, in spite of Andrew’s glare.  ‘I mean, you did take him to the Met and make the front page of at least four different newspapers.  And he did sleep in your bed hotel last night.’

‘How the hell do you know where Neil was sleeping?’

‘Hey, hey, calm down.  Take it easy,’ Mara said, eyeing Andrew’s clenched fists with concern.  ‘It was part of the deal, Nathaniel knew-‘

‘What _fucking_ deal?’ Andrew asked.

‘We want Nathan.  Nathan wants Nathaniel.  So Nathaniel agreed to draw the bastard in, so we could get our hands on him, and in return, Nathaniel gets to keep his life here, no more running.’

Andrew was on his feet.  He caught Mara’s arm and wrenched her upright, then slammed her against the wall.  She hit him, hard, but Andrew couldn’t even feel it. 

‘What the _fuck_ did you say?  You _used_ him-‘

Hands dragged Andrew back.  He fought mindlessly against them, but there were too many, too many.  They pressed on his shoulders until he was forced down into a chair.

‘Hey.  Hey.  Minyard.’  A sharp, insistent voice broke through the rage. 

Stuart waited until Andrew focused his eyes on him, and then gestured behind Andrew.  The hands holding him down disappeared as the rest of the Halfords returned to their huddle at the far end of the room and resumed their conversation.

‘You used him as bait,’ Andrew said tonelessly, forcing down his rage.

‘Yes,’ Stuart answered coldly.  ‘Nathaniel knew what he was getting into.  He wanted this life here badly enough to put everything on the line.’

‘But you didn’t hold up your end of the deal, did you?’ Andrew asked.  ‘You were meant to be watching him.  You were meant to follow them back to his father.  But you have no idea where Neil is now, because you lost him.’

‘You want to play the blame game, huh?  That’s real funny.  Why do you think Nathaniel wanted to stay so badly that he would risk everything?  What would be important enough to him to stop him in his tracks after he’s been running for more than half his life?’ A minimum wage job?  An apartment he doesn’t even stay in?’

Stuart shook his head slowly, frigid blue eyes narrowed, as he answered his own question.

‘No.  You, you are the reason Nathaniel made this deal, so don’t sit there and act like you had nothing to do with it.  We are doing everything we can to track him down, so if you want to see him again, you need to stop being a problem and let us work.’

Stuart turned on his heel and re-joined the other Hatfords.  Andrew dug his nails into his palms and forced himself not to follow Stuart.  Neil’s fucked up matyrism was not Andrew’s fault- if the idiot had just _told_ him the stakes, Andrew would have told him- he could have done- something.  But the bastard was right about one thing: that the only thing that Andrew could do to help Neil now was stay out of the way. 

So Andrew waited.  He sat and he waited and he didn’t think.  Despite everything, Mara came back periodically with food and water, checking in on him.

Andrew was slumped in the desk chair, slowly disintegrating a roll by pulling scraps of bread off a roll and dropping them on the desk beside him.  The room fell quiet, as all the low, urgent discussion on the other side of the room abrupty ceased.

Andrew sat up sharply.  All the Hatfords had stopped, and were silently watching one man talking into a phone. 

To hell with ‘stay out of the way’.

Andrew hurried over.  Although he received some irritated looks from a couple of the Hatfords,  Stuart and the others were too intent on the phone call to notice him. 

‘Alright.  Brewer street, yeah.  We’re on it.’  The man lowered the phone and nodded to Stuart. 

 Stuart smiled, with his teeth bared, then turned and bellowed ‘Alright!  You heard the man, get off your fucking arses and load up!’

The Hatfords scattered. 

In mere minutes, they were springing into the cars.  This time, they belted in, and Andrew followed suite.  He was glad, because the speed the car was going was well beyond legal.  The driver had no qualms about bus lanes or traffic lights, but couldn’t do anything about the traffic queues.  Andrew’s leg bounced uncontrollably until they were moving again. 

They pulled up and stopped in a street lined with blank-faced warehouses with boarded windows.  The two other cars arrived a few moments later.  Altogether there were about twenty Hatfords.  Stuart sent of a few to scout the area for any lookouts and sound the word if there was going to be any interference.  The rest huddled around.

‘Alright.  We’ve been working on this expansion for years, all of us.  This is the last step, so don’t cock it up.  First priority is Wesninski.  Then go for his people.  If Nathaniel is in there, we get him out without adding to the damage.  Now let’s fuck them up!’

The Hatfords roared in response.  Andrew carefully loaded his gun, and held it carefully at his side, pointed at the ground.

Stuart led them down the street and across another, before taking a side road that looked like it was intended for delivery trucks.  Someone was waiting by the door- but Stuart greeted them with a sharp nod, and an almost silent conversation.  Then Stuart took a few steps back from the door, and everyone tensed.

Stuart drove forward, smashing his heavy boot into the door by the handle.  The plywood splintered on contact, and Stuart pitched through the doorway, with Mara at his heels.

Andrew shoved between the Hatfords, and stumbled into the building behind Mara.  The people inside the cavernous room were diving for cover, but even as he brought up his gun, they were crumpling to the floor with bursts of red, picked off one by one.

He searched desperately- and there, on the floor in the centre of the room, a dark-haired man lay motionless.  Andrew flicked the safety and jammed the gun into his waistband, and sprinted in a half crouch to where Neil lay.  He fell to his knees beside him. 

Andrew was too panicked to be gentle.  He grabbed Neil’s shoulder and pulled him half into his lap.

He was saying Neil’s name, over and over, and he couldn’t seem to stop.

Neil head turned slowly, and two ice-blue eyes blinked up at him.


	11. XI Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Neil is working as a maid in The Foxhole hotel and squatting in one of the empty rooms. He strikes up a friendship with Andrew Minyard, world-class Exy player and the guest in the room below, and they go to the Shooting Stars Ball together. Neil is reunited with Stuart, who offers Neil a chance to keep his life at the Foxhole if Neil will act as bait to draw Nathan in. Exhausted from the stress, Neil falls asleep in the bed of one of the rooms he’s meant to be cleaning.  
> Andrew gets back to his hotel room to find Neil asleep in his bed. He realises Neil is a maid, and despite being hurt by Neil lying and avoiding him, Andrew lets him sleep. Lola, Romero and Plank break in, looking to get information out of Andrew, but find Neil too. Lola and Romero take Neil, Plank stays to guard Andrew, who is used as leverage against Neil. Then, too late, the Hatfords arrive, rescuing Andrew but missing Neil. Andrew goes with them while they track Neil down. They trace them to a warehouse. There’s a gunfight, and Andrew runs across the room to get to Neil.

**Chapter XI**

**Home**

 

His father laid the blade of the cleaver across Nathaniel’s throat. 

Nathaniel said, ‘No please no no please don’t no.’

His father smiled down at him.  His hair, grey now, fell across his eyes, and the skin at their corners creased.

‘You know I don’t like it when you beg, Nathaniel.  You disappoint me.  Haven’t you learnt to take your punishment silently, after all these years?’

The cleaver wasn’t sharp enough to cut his throat without serious effort , so Nathaniel jerked and twisted away from the knife that Nathan drew down his cheek in jagged lines.

‘Lola,’ Nathan said, but he didn’t get to finish.

The warehouse door splintered and collapsed inwards.  People poured in through the door, bullets flew.  Lola and Romero had grabbed Nathan, and they dragged him off Nathaniel and back.

Nathaniel lay still.

The hail of bullets slowed, and stopped. 

Someone grabbed Nathaniel, and he didn’t resist.  His head was lifted, and then rested on their thighs.

‘Andrew?’

‘Yeah.’

Neil’s eyes closed.  Everything had been agonisingly crystal-clear- the bite of the cigarette lighter in car, the feeling of melting skin, the way the metal cuffs had torn into his wrists, Lola’s laugh, his father’s smile- but the moment he heard Andrew’s voice, the room began to blur.  He wanted to let go, because he knew Andrew could hold him up. 

But there was something still to be seen.

Neil let his head fall to the side.

Nathan was on his knees.  He looked up at Stuart, and said, ‘You fucking.’

Then he died.

Neil let out a small, chocked sound.  The room began to shake, and he wondered if the world would come to an end with his father.

Andrew’s arm slid under his back, and his knees, and then he was being carried.  He felt Andrew’s chest vibrate as he spoke, short and harsh.  Someone replied, and then they were moving again, but Andrew had to put Neil down so he could retch and retch and retch. 

Neil was laid down across the backseat of a car, and Andrew was gone.

 

***

 

When Neil woke again, he was in a white room, in a white bed, covered by a pale blue blanket.  Tubes snaked from under the blanket to a small monitor by his bedside.  There were bandages on his face, and his hands and- too many bandages.  But the pain he felt was oddly muted and from no place in particular.

Stuart was in a chair next to his bed.  He was watching Neil.

‘You’re at a safe house.  We couldn’t take you to a hospital, but a doctor has already checked you out.’

Neil frowned.  His thoughts felt treacle slow.  ‘Why couldn’t I go into hospital?  I mean, I’d rather not, but with- him gone, surely there’s no need to hide?’

‘Our deal was that we get Nathan, and you get to keep the life that you’ve made here.   Well, I’m holding up my side.  You couldn’t have this if the FBI got hold of you and made you testify, then stuck you in witness protection- and even if you dodged them, the media would be all over you.  And sooner or later, Nathan’s people would have come for you.  No, Nathaniel had to die so that Neil Josten could go on.’

Neil didn’t understand.

‘After a shootout between officers and gang members, Nathaniel Wesninski’s body was recovered in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of New York.  All evidence suggested he was beaten to death by his father. It’s the final evidence that Wesninski was responsible for the disappearance of his son and wife.’

‘They recovered… what?’

‘The body of Nathaniel Wesninski,’ Stuart said, smiling ironically.  ‘It bears a passable physical resemblance to Nathaniel.  The fact that there are no know photographs of him after the age of ten and that the body is beaten black and blue helps too.  It matches his dental records, and the blood sample will match.  Who could it be except Nathaniel?’

‘Oh.  Right,’ Neil said.  He had been missing supposed dead for a decade and a half, so it shouldn’t feel so strange to hear it was now official.

He extracted his arm from under the blanket, careful not to detach the drip, and brushed his fingers across his face.

‘Will it scar badly?’ he asked.

‘It will heal eventually,’ Stuart answered, which was neither here nor there.

A brief flicker of panic as Neil scanned the room, and found it empty.  ‘Where is Andrew?  Is he okay?’

Stuart grimaced.  ‘The short-arsed bastard is fine.  He’s in another safe house, because we couldn’t convince him to fuck off.’

‘I need to.  I need to call-‘ Neil yawned hugely.

‘Just relax, kiddo.  He can keep his cool for another few hours.  You’re concussed and in shock, so sleep a bit longer.’

The next time Neil woke, it was to hands on his skin.  He lashed out instinctively, and then cried out as white-hot bolts of pain shot up his arm.

The woman leaning over him stumbled back in shock, but Stuart, standing behind her, caught her.

‘Nathaniel, it’s okay.  This is Mina, she’s our doctor.  Let her check you over.’

Neil scowled shakily.  ‘I’m fine.  I don’t need a doctor anymore.  Where is Andrew?’

Stuart murmured something to the woman, and she left them.

‘I told you, Neil, he’s-‘

‘I need to call him.’

‘Okay, okay.’ Stuart pulled out his phone, and tapped in a number.  He spoke quietly for a few moments, asked them to put Andrew on, before handing the phone over to Neil.

He took it awkwardly in his fingertips.  The bandages and tender skin made his hands clumsy, but he managed to raise the phone to his ear.

He listened for a moment.  Someone breathed slowly down the phone.

‘Andrew?’ he said uncertainly.

‘Neil,’ he said.  ‘Tell me where you are.’

Neil glanced at Stuart.  The man sighed and half-shrugged.  ‘Tell him McLuther St, 118.  Mara will bring him.’

Neil relayed the information.  ‘Andrew-‘

The phone clicked.  Andrew had hung up.  Neil dropped the phone, and let his head fall back so he could stare at the ceiling.

‘Kid.  Neil.’  Neil lolled his head to the side to look at Stuart.  ‘Before he gets here, there’s something we need to talk about. 

You’re a Hatford by blood, and you have a place with us.  You can make a home with us, in Baltimore, it’s ours now.  If you come with us, we can keep you safe and you’ll never need to run again.’

Neil began to shake his head.

‘No, just think,’ Stuart said insistently.  ‘We’ve taken out Nathan, but some of his people are still knocking around.  The FBI still need more testimony.  You’re always going to have a target on your back, and that makes you dangerous for normal people to be around.  But we know you, we understand the things you’ve done and seen.

I’m not gonna demand a decision right away.  You’ve got until the New Year- four days- until we’re leaving.  I’ll need to know by then.’

Neil’s chest began to ache in a way it hadn’t until now, and he couldn’t trace the pain to any of his wounds.

There was a scuffle and swearing from behind the door, and then Andrew burst in. A young, stocky woman had him by the wrist, but Andrew seemed to hardly notice her best attempts to stop him.

Andrew was across the room two strides.  He shoved Stuart back from Neil.

'Get away from us,' he snarled.

Neil was braced for violence- but Stuart stepped back calmly. 

Andrew turned on him.  Every line of his face was hard as he took in Neil's wounds. Andrew had a small smudge of blood under one eye, but there was no evidence of injury.

‘They’re saying Nathaniel Wesninski is dead,’ Andrew said.

‘He is.  They found his body,’ Neil said quietly.  He reached out tentatively, and brushed his finger over the smudge.  ‘Stuart made sure of it.  But Neil Josten is- is going to be fine.’

‘He’ll be safer, this way,’ Stuart added.

Andrew turned a vicious look on Stuart.  ‘How selfless of you, to look out for Neil like that.’

Stuart smiled back at him.  ‘Oh, I’m not denying it had its advantages for us.  Its best if the Wesninski name dies.  It’s got too much power in this part of the world, and we don’t want anyone- imposter or real- claiming his legacy and making things difficult for us.’

‘So you can take over his turf without any challengers,’ Neil summarised.  ‘Well, that sounds reasonable to me.’

‘And if the FBI got Neil to testify, that wouldn’t be in your favour either, would it now?’ Andrew said.  ‘Wouldn’t want anything like bent cops and emigrating crime families to confuse the situation.’

‘That’s it,’ Stuart agreed urbanely.  ‘But if you have a problem with any of this, Neil, all you would need to do is come forward.  You could easily prove your identity if you wanted to.’

‘Nathaniel Wesninski is dead.  It’s the way it should be,’ Neil said heavily.

Andrew turned his back to Stuart, and focused on Neil again.  In a voice that was only just under control, he said, 'We are leaving.'

'Yeah,' Neil agreed quietly.  He eased himself upright, and cautiously detached the drip from his arm. He lowered his legs to the floor and stood.

It didn't feel good. But he could walk.

'Neil,' Stuart said.

He paused in the doorway.

'Three days to decide if you're staying or coming with us. Don't forget.'

'I won't forget,' Neil promised.

The sun was set, but the air wasn’t freezing yet, so Neil concluded it was early evening.  He wondered if it had been a day, or two days, or more that he’d been out.  Andrew's car was parked only a metre from the door, which was fortunate because Neil couldn't have walked any further. 

It wasn't even the pain that was the problem, he was just exhausted.  Neil looked down at the door handle.  It would hurt to pull it open.  He raised his hand.

Andrew’s hand reached around him and grabbed the handle.  Neil shuffled back so Andrew could open the door, and then eased himself into the passenger seat.  Andrew got in the other side.

Neil turned to face him across the gearstick.

Andrew’s hair was lank and mussed, and he looked exhausted.

‘I hate you.  100%,’ Andrew told him.

Neil had been smiling, just a little, without meaning to.  Now it faltered.

‘I’m sorry.’

Andrew tensed, and his hands clenched on the wheel.  Neil didn’t flinch from the violence in his eyes. 

‘If you want me to leave, I promise I’ll keep all of… this away from you.  You won’t have to see-‘

‘Shut up,’ Andrew said.  ‘Your father is dead.  You are staying.  I am staying.’

His father was dead.

‘Okay,’ Neil said. 

Andrew drove.

The last time Neil had been in this car, they were headed to the ball.  He’d been in a tux.  He looked down at his baggy sweats and huge hoodie, and bit his lip.

At least the Christmas lights were still up- even two days after the event.  They blurred in front of Neil’s tired eyes, mixing and swirling into abstract patterns he didn’t care to decipher.  White and orange fairy-lights brought him out of his daze.

The car stopped.  Andrew’s gaze didn’t shift from the windscreen.

‘Are you really a maid?’ he asked.

‘No,’ Neil said automatically.

Andrew turned, his expression incendiary.

‘I’m assistant manager,’ he added.

Andrew scowled at him, and Neil smirked.  He reached over and pulled Neil’s overlarge hood over his head, and tugged the strings tight.  Neil’s bandages were still visible.

‘I’ll keep my head low,’ he offered.

Andrew nodded, and got out.  Neil stuck to his back like a shadow across the parking lot and into the lobby, eyes cast down- grimy concrete, the stone steps, tiled lobby.  Neil felt incredibly suspect.  Surely one of the guards would notice his efforts to hide his face and stop him.

It felt strange walking into the guest lift.  As a rule, Neil avoided lifts due to the confined spaces and lack of immediate escape routes, but the guest lift was doubly stressful. 

Only metres to go.  Neil risked a glance up, over Andrew should and he could see his room-

‘Mr _Minyard_?’

Damn.

Dan was walking down the corridor towards them, but she stumbled to a stop when she saw Andrew. 

‘Oh, my God, what happened?  Are you okay?  What the fuck-‘ she caught sight of Neil’s bandaged face behind Andrew, and her voice rose an octave.  ‘What the _fuck_ is going on?’

Andrew tensed, and Neil knew he was readying himself to shove Dan aside.  But he knew Dan, and that wouldn’t stall her for long.

He reached forward and curled his fingers around Andrew’s are- not restraining, but there. 

‘Andrew, wait-‘

Dan blanched.  ‘ _Neil_?’

‘Oh.  Uh.  Hey, Dan,’ Neil said weakly.  ‘Can we- can we do this not in public?  Please?’

Dan stared. 

‘Uh.  Dan?’ he said again.

She blinked.  ‘Okay.  Yeah, I- Yeah.’

Andrew muttered something derisive and shoulder past her.  Neil shrugged apologetically at Dan and followed.

The door to what had been Andrew’s room was splintered and only barely on its hinges.  It was crisscrossed with crime scene tape, and through the gaps in the wood Neil could see the bullet hole and blood splatter on the wall.

‘Oh, damn.  I forgot about that,’ he said.

Andrew swore.

‘Um.  Since you were kidnapped and someone died in there, I’m afraid your room is now a crime scene,’ Dan said, still in that odd, high pitched tone.  ‘But 108 is free if that would work for you?’

‘Does it have a balcony?’ Andrew asked.

‘Does.  Does it-‘ Dan pressed her fingers to either side of her nose.  ‘Yes, it has a balcony.’

She took the multi-key card from her belt and swiped it through, then stepped back to let Andrew and Neil through first.  Inside, it was identical to Andrew’s old room.  Neil settled cautiously on the edge of the bed, and Andrew stood protectively at his side.

Dan shut the door behind herself, and hurried across the room.  Neil braced for a hug that was definitely going to hurt- but Andrew’s glare stopped Dan before she was close enough.  She glanced between them, the approached more slowly until she was in front of Neil.

‘Neil, what happened to you?  Where have you been?  I- I thought you finally took the holiday I’d been bugging you about.’

‘Well.  Not exactly…’ Neil hedged.

‘Neil.  What _exactly_ happened?’ Dan said, struggling to keep her voice even.

Neil bit his lip, then winced as he touched the spot he’d almost bitten through.  He couldn’t tell, he couldn’t tell-

‘Neil,’ Andrew said, only that, but his eyes said _you don’t have to say anything_ and _I will make her go away._

When Neil didn’t, couldn’t answer, he turned towards Dan, hostile enough that she began to back instinctively away- but then she stopped herself, and squared her shoulders.

Neil, I’ll go, just tell me if that’s what you want.  Do you want me to leave you hear with… _him?_ ’ Dan asked.  It took Neil a moment to realise she was offering to protect him from Andrew, of all things.

‘No!’ he burst out.  ‘I mean.  I want to explain I just.’

Andrew and Dan waited.

‘I’m just used to keeping it all a secret, it’s hard to let go of that,’ Neil added haltingly.  ‘But I want to.  Dan, are Matt and Allison working?’

‘Okay.  Yeah, good idea, I’ll get them.’

Dan left, with one more curious look at Andrew.

All the rooms in the Foxhole were heated to 60 degrees, but oddly, it felt cold enough that he was shivering a little.

Andrew frowned at him.  ‘Yes or no?’

Neil blinked.  ‘Yes?’

Slowly, eyes on Neil, Andrew settled on the edge of the bed.  When Neil didn’t stop him, he scooted along until their sides pressed together.  Neil sighed a little and pressed in closer, absorbing all the heat he could from Andrew.

There was a hesitant tap at the door.

‘Come in,’ Neil called.

Dan came in, with Allison and Matt craning over her shoulders. 

‘Jesus fuck,’ Allison breathed.

Matt said, ‘ _Neil_.’

‘I’m fine,’ Neil said uncertainly.  He’d been prepared for anger when they heard how he’d lied to them, put them in danger, when they found out who he was.  Matt’s desolate expression was tempting him to hope that they wouldn’t want him gone, that he could keep them and tell the truth.

But they hadn’t heard anything yet.

Neil cleared his throat roughly and clung to his composure.

‘If you want to know what happened, I can’t really explain without telling you everything, from the beginning.  I don’t know if you want to hear it but-‘

Allison interrupted, brusque as ever.  ‘We want to fucking hear it, Josten.  Everything.  Start talking.’

It steadied him.  ‘Okay.  I was born Nathaniel Wesninski…’

He talked softly, quickly, forcing the words out even when his tongue tripped and stumbled.  He didn’t want to see their faces.  He didn’t look up until he ran out of words.

‘I’m sorry.  I decided to put you all in danger because I didn’t want-  I just didn’t want to lose all this.’

‘Neil,’ Matt said, so gently that Neil finally found the courage to look up.  ‘I’m so sorry.’

Neil blinked.  ‘It’s not your fault.’

‘I know that, but I’m sorry it happened to you, all of that shit.  Can I- Will it hurt if I hug you?’

Neil shook his head slowly.  Matt stepped forward, and bent awkwardly over the bed to wrap his arms around Neil. 

Though Neil had often seen his friends hug each other, after the first couple of attempts they’d realised he wasn’t comfortable with it and stopped.  This was different from those brief hugs that meant nothing more than _hello_.  Neil allowed himself to lean into it, just a fraction. 

When he leant back again, Matt released him, wiping his eyes as he stepped back again.

‘All this time,’ Allison said.  ‘All this time and I thought you didn’t tell me anything about yourself because you didn’t like gossip.  Jesus.’

‘Are you going to be okay?’ Dan asked.  ‘I mean, physically, but also safe from anyone coming after you?’

‘Stuart said I’ll heal up fine, and he promised he had a plan to make sure I could live peacefully.  I trust him, mostly,’ Neil said.  ‘All I can really do now is hope he follows through.’

Dan’s brow creased.  ‘Huh.  Do you think he’ll try and hush up this whole thing?  Does he have enough sway to pull that kind of thing?’

‘He said he had government people, and police, on his side, so maybe,’ Neil offered.

‘Well, that explains a lot,’ Dan said.  ‘We didn’t even know you were gone, Neil, but uh- Mr Minyard- we thought you’d been kidnapped.’

‘You thought what?’ Andrew asked, with what sounded to Neil like deceptive calmness.

‘Well- a ten people all waving guns and yelling forced their way up to your room, killed someone, and left, and then you were missing!  We just assumed- so we called your family, and the cops, but when they came by they just took the body and started cleaning up straight away, and they told everyone that we shouldn’t tell anyone, definitely not the press.  It seemed weird, like they should have  been- should have been-‘

Dan trailed off in the face of Andrew cold non-expression.

‘You called my family.’

‘I mean.  Uh, technically they called up.  Your cousin, Nicholas, rang up to ask where you were on Christmas day...’

Andrew was still looking blankly at her.  Dan glanced at Neil uncertainly, and began to edge towards the door.

‘But I’ll call them right away to let them know you’re alright!’

Andrew sighed.  ‘This is going to be terrible.  I guess I’d better get it over with as soon as possible.’

Dan looked a little put out by his response, but nodded uncertainly. 

‘Neil, we’ll come back real soon, okay?  Soon as I’ve finished my shift.’

Matt followed her, but Allison paused by Neil for a second.  ‘Looks like the two of you might work out after all,’ she said.

When Neil didn’t know how to respond, she touched his shoulder lightly and followed the others out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst is over! Well... mostly... since there's still one more choice Neil has to make. Thanks for reading, and thanks a million to everyone who comments!


	12. XII Pretty for Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Neil is working as a maid in The Foxhole hotel and strikes up a friendship with Andrew Minyard, world-class Exy player and a guest in the hotel. After a run in with Nathan that culminates in Nathan’s execution, Stuart takes an unconscious Neil into his custody. The next day, Neil wakes up and calls Andrew, who takes him home to the Foxhole. At the Foxhole, Neil explains his past to Dan, Matt, and Allison. Due to his disappearance with crowd of heavily armed Hatfords and the dead body left in his room, Andrew has been presumed to be kidnapped. To Andrew’s dismay, Dan admits that Nicky discovered this upon calling the hotel, and promises to immediately reassure Nicky.
> 
> Okay this gets a little smutty! If it bothers you just drop a comment and I can let you know exactly where it is/what happens if you would prefer to skip over it. It’s not anything more than cannon, but a little more detailed.

  **Chapter XII**

**Pretty for Me**

 

Finally, as Neil’s friends left and they were alone, Andrew could relax a little.  Every time anyone touched Neil, stepped towards Neil, even _looked_ at Neil, Andrew’s blood boiled.  Every protective instinct that he thought had been laid to rest when he finished college was back, and ten times stronger than they’d ever been for Kevin or Nicky. 

He couldn’t relax completely, because somewhere in the back of his mind the sound of wood splintering as the door was kicked in played over and over again, reminding him how easily Neil had been taken from this very place.

Neil was staring at him.  Andrew forced his face to smooth out, crushing down the agitation.  ‘Staring,’ he said.

Neil began to shrug, then smiled instead.  ‘You need a shower.  You look gross,’ he told Andrew.

Andrew looked him up and down.  ‘Not as much as you need one.  Wait here,’ he ordered.

He walked casually to the door, and began to hurry along as soon as it shut behind him.  Leaving Neil alone was a terrible, terrible idea, but they were going to need some supplies.

One of Neil’s friends- Matt- was at the reception desk, so Andrew told him what he needed and headed straight back.

Matt brought the garbage bags and tape only a few minutes later.  Andrew took them from him at the door, then collected Neil with a glance on his way through to the bathroom.

Andrew waited, eyes expectant on Neil.  He caught on, and with only a slight pink in his cheeks, began to tug his shirt over his head.  He hissed suddenly and Andrew surged forward and pushed his hands out of the way.

Trapped inside the shirt, Neil let out a breathy laugh, half-grateful and half-embarrassed.

Andrew drew the shirt carefully over his head.  As always, being this close to Neil his body betrayed him- his heart beat too fast, his breathing shallowed, his skin flushed- but he forced himself keep the reaction under control, unnoticeable.

He unbuttoned Neil’s jeans, but the man managed to slip them off, along with his boxers, without Andrew’s help.

Andrew unrolled a garbage bag, and ripped of a long strip.  He stepped into Neil’s space again, and measured the strip against the dressing on Neil’s cheek.  He folded the edges in until it was just a little larger than the dressing.  With as light a touch as he could manage, he taped it down.

The worst of the damage was on Neil’s arms, a patchwork of slices and burns.  After a moment’s contemplation, Andrew avoided the issue by wrapping Neil’s whole arm in a bag and taping it just below his shoulder. 

There was only a couple of dressings on his torso, and his legs had escaped the worst of the damage.

Andrew stepped back, and circled Neil, checking his handiwork.  Good enough.

Neil stepped into the shower.  Andrew could bear a wet t-shirt and boxers, but jeans?  He slid them off, and followed Neil in.

Neil turned, surprised, and Andrew gave a miniscule eye roll.  Did the idiot really think he could wash himself if he couldn’t raise his arms above shoulder level?

Andrew pulled Neil back, and cut the water on.  He held a hand under until it was warm, and then pushed him back under the water.

The water cascaded over Neil’s head and shoulders, leaving glistening skin in its wake.  He closed his eyes, and tilted his head back, exposing the smooth column of his neck.

Andrew bit the inside of his cheek.

He reached for the shampoo, and emptied the tiny bottle into his palm.  When Neil opened his eyes again.  Andrew moved in, and reached for his hair.

He may have been a little more vigorous in his hair washing than was really necessary.

When he was satisfied with the lather, he dropped his hands.  Instead of rinsing, Neil paused, looking quizzically as Andrew.

‘Yes or no?’ Neil asked.

Andrew’s eyes skipped over the wasteland of Neil’s cheeks.

‘Andrew, I’m fine.  Yes or no?’ Neil asked insistently.

‘Yes,’ Andrew told him.

Neil hesitated then, seeming unsure of how to start, so Andrew helped him out by pulling him into a kiss. 

Andrew wound his fingers through Neil’s slick, soapy strands of hair, then rubbed his fingertips back and forth, massaging his scalp.  Neil sighed into his mouth, sending wave after wave of mingled satisfaction and desire flooding through Andrew.

When Andrew pulled away to breath, his mouth tasted of shampoo.  He grimaced slightly and Neil laughed in his face.  Andrew growled and shoved him back under the water to rinse his hair.

He grabbed the shower gel and lathered it between his hands.  Neil emerged from the water, grin intact as he shook the water out of his eyes and onto Andrew.  Andrew’s eyes narrowed.

He reached up and settled his hands on Neil shoulders.  Deliberately, he swiped his slick thumbs over Neil’s nipples.  Neil’s smug smile faltered and his mouth fell open in surprise at the sensation.  Andrew did it again, then rubbed slowly back and forth until the buds were raised and hard.  Neil made an amusing whining sound when Andrew pressed his nail against his nipple, and his hands, clenched at his sides, began to shake.

Andrew  grabbed his wrists.  Neil resisted for a moment, but then allowed Andrew to draw them upwards and place them on his shoulders.

With his hands wrapped in sodden plastic, Neil couldn’t exactly hold on, but he seemed slightly steadier. 

Andrew worked his way down Neil’s body, kissing and cleaning, until the man was a shuddering wreck.  Neil’s pupils were blown wide, and his lips were obscenely reddened and swollen from kissing.  Andrew had to look away, just to catch a breath-

Neil’s lips caressed his neck. 

Andrew grit his teeth, stifling a gasp before it could escape.  Somehow, Neil still caught his reaction.  His lips tightened into a smile against Andrew’s hypersensitive skin, and mouthed lower, before teasing the skin lightly with his tongue.

Andrew grabbed Neil, and swung him round to press him up against the far wall.  Neil breath was wild and uncontrolled, panting into Andrew’s mouth. 

Andrew pinned Neil against the wall with one hand on his chest, and pulled back.

‘Yes or no?’ he asked, in as steady a voice as he could manage.

Neil just gasped his name in response.

He liked the way his name sounded in Neil’s mouth, but that wasn’t good enough.  Andrew frowned at him.

‘Yes… Andrew,’ Neil managed.

Andrew covered his mouth with one hand, and slid down until he reached Neil’s hips.  He ghosted a kiss on the taunt skin, and took Neil into his mouth.

Neil’s head fell back against the tiles with an audible thud that couldn’t have been good for the remnants of his concussion.  Neil didn’t seem to feel it, at least. 

He stuttered out Andrew’s name one more time, and came.

Andrew rose up from his knees, and caught Neil’s slack mouth in a kiss, one hand in his hair to hold his head in place.

Neil realised where his other hand was and his eyes widened.  He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously close to encouragement into Andrew’s mouth.  Andrew bit his lower lip to shut him up.

When he was done, he kicked Neil out of the shower.  He was clean in a few seconds.

He stripped his soaked clothes off, and left them hanging from the showerhead to drip-dry.  He wrapped a towel around his waist. 

Neil standing in the middle of the bedroom, still dressed in only the two towels, dripping on the carpet, plastic wrapped arms hanging uselessly at his sides.  He looked up guiltily at Andrew.

There were shreds of medical tape stuck to his lips.  The tape below his left shoulder was half torn off.

‘I- ah- was just trying to get the bags off,’ Neil explained sheepishly.

‘You are an actual child,’ Andrew told him, before pulling the tape and plastic off.  All of Neil’s dressings were dry.  He dried the rest of his body, and his unruly mop of hair that seemed to have soaked up half a shower’s worth of water.

Neil’s stuff was still locked in the staff locker room on the first floor, so Andrew lent him sweats and a tee.  They were both wide on him, revealing a good bit of collar and hip bone, but Neil didn’t seem to mind that.  Without his murky contacts, his icy blue eyes were striking against the black ensemble.

Neil yawned hugely.  Andrew glanced at the clock and saw it was somehow midnight already.

‘If you want,’ Neil said uncertainly,’ I could ask Dan to let me sleep in another room.  Or move us to another room with twin beds.’

Andrew rolled his eyes, and tugged Neil towards the double bed by his sleeve.

‘Yes or no?’ he asked Neil.  ‘To sharing the bed.’

‘Yes,’ Neil answered.

Andrew turned towards the bed- and froze.

Someone was pounding on the suite door.

‘Annnnndrew!  Andrew let us in!’

Neil looked at Andrew, startled.  Andrew put a finger to his lips.  Perhaps if they just-

‘Andrew Joseph Minyard, I know you’re in there and we’re not going until we’ve seen you!’

With one last regretful look at the bed, Andrew shuffled over to the door.

Nicky, who was hammering on the door when Andrew pulled it open, tripped into the room, followed by Erik, Aaron, and Katlyn.

‘Andrew!  Oh, my God, are you hurt?’ Nicky asked.  Before Andrew could answer, he was talking again.  ‘What happened to you?  Who kidnapped you?  How did you get away?’

Erik reached around his husband and placed his palm gently over Nicky’s mouth.

Andrew held up four fingers and folded each down as he answered Nicky’s torrent of questions.  ‘No.  I had to go someplace.  I was not kidnapped.  I was free to leave when I wanted.’

Apparently he shouldn’t have bothered, because Nicky immediately followed with ‘Okay so I was kinda mad ‘cuz u semi promised me you'd come to xmas then didn't show then Dan said you'd been KIDNAPPED and I felt so terrible because the whole time they were kidnapping you I was just thinking you-

Aaron pushed past Erik and Nicky, Katlyn at his back.

‘If you weren’t kidnapped, _what the fuck happened?_ ‘

A voice so quiet it seemed to be hoping to ignored muttered ‘….it was kind of my fault…’

Four heads whipped round.  Neil smiled weakly at them from the corner.

There was a beat of silence. 

‘Neil?’ Nicky gaped.

Andrew glared.  Neil’s intentions may have been to draw the fire off Andrew, but he had no idea what he was starting.

‘How are you here?  What happened to your _face_?’

Erik, Katlyn, and even Aaron winced.

Andrew leant slowly into Nicky’s space.

‘It’s uh.  It’s okay.  Um, I was kidnapped and this happened,’ he gestured up at his face.  ‘Andrew got me out of a really bad situation, but yeah, it was my fault he went missing.  I’m sorry.’

Erik’s arms snaked protectively around Nicky.  ‘Why were you kidnapped?  Who are you?’

What could be seen of Neil’s face between the bandages paled.  He drew in an unsteady breath.  ‘I’m-‘

Andrew cut him off, sick of seeing Neil flaying himself in some misguided attempt to appease his family.

‘He is none of your fucking business.’

Aaron started forward, voice raised.  ‘Andrew, this guy is all kinds of messed up, I really don’t think-‘

‘Aaron.’  Katlyn broke in sharply.  ‘Andrew is right.  This isn’t something we should be involved with.  He’s capable of sorting out his own relationship.’  Aaron looked incredulously at her, but he didn’t shake off her hand, and didn’t say anything more.

Nicky was looking slowly between him and Neil.

Instinctively, Andrew shifted a half-step closer to Neil.

Nicky’s eyes widened.

‘Andrew… your hair is wet.  And so is Neil’s.  Did you guys just… shower?  Wait, are you two sharing a room?  Are you sharing a bed? Oh.  My. God.  Did you shower together?’

Aaron looked appalled.  Erik murmured Nicky’s name in a failing tone.  Katlyn bit down hard on a laugh.

‘Get.  Out.’ Andrew gritted out.

Nicky was so happy that he practically floated out of the room when Erik tugged him to the door.  Just when Andrew thought the ordeal was over, the pest dug his feet in and craned around Erik to see Andrew.

‘New Year’s Eve!’

‘What.’ Andrew grunted.

‘I’m only going if you promise to come to New Year’s Eve!  We’ll have a New Year’s Eve party at Aarons, because you missed Christmas.  You can bring Neil!’

Andrew closed his eyes and tilted his head back.  ‘Fine.  Whatever.  Now go.’

Katlyn and Aaron followed them out, but Aaron paused in the doorway.

‘How are you treating the burns?’

‘It’s fine,’ Neil said.  ‘I know what I’m doing.’

‘Whatever.  If you need a checkup… I’ll do it for half-price.’  Aaron yelped as Katlyn pinched his arm.  ‘Fine!  Free, I’ll do it for free.  I was kidding…’

‘Bye, Andrew, Neil, see you on Friday,’ Katlyn chirped, and dragged Aaron out, as he protested half-heartedly.

And they were alone again.

Neil sagged down onto the bed.  ‘Your family is exhausting.’

‘You shouldn’t have told them anything.  They won’t let it go until they get the whole story out of you,’ Andrew said.

Neil groaned and flopped back onto the bed, then scuffled his legs under the duvet.  Andrew joined him a few minutes later.  He settled carefully on his side, facing Neil.

The man was already asleep.

Andrew let out a short breath of amusement.   It looked like sleep was the only thing happening in his bed tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many interruptions, so many italics… sorry ;)
> 
> Title is from scary love, on the NBHD’s new album because I stg every single song they’ve released is about these guys...  
> Apart from Ferrari which is 100% Kandrew!
> 
> I mostly stuck to the canon shower scene because a)I haven’t written smut before so I appreciated the guidance and b) there’s so much I love in that scene! I hope it was still interesting.


	13. XIII New Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Neil is working as a maid in The Foxhole hotel and somehow stumbles into dating Andrew Minyard, world-class Exy player and a guest in the hotel. Andrew has missed his family Christmas party (and his first social interaction with Aaron in years) due to mission save Neil from mortal peril. Nicky has convinced Neil and Andrew to come to a New Year’s party instead.
> 
> This is up a day early because I have no self-restraint!

**Chapter XIII**

**New Year**

 

It was the first time Neil had ever looked forward to a party.

Parties in Baltimore had meant hours of trying to hide his panic and avoid his father and every other guest, followed by bruises and in some cases broken bones when he inevitably failed.

After that- well, two people didn’t really constitute a party, and there was nothing to celebrate anyway.

Since high school house parties had been out of the question, he’d managed to entirely avoid them until he arrived in New York.  Within a week of working at the Foxhole, he’d been invited, with varying degrees of intensity, to four different parties.  He’d refused all invitations until people stopped asking him.  Except Dan, Matt, and Allison, who never gave up.

Eventually, he figured that if he just went along to one, they’d realise how little fun he was in large social situations, and stop hassling him.

His plan was… less than successful.

From that point on, he grudgingly attended their gatherings every couple of weeks.  Sometimes it was fun, when he showed up at Dan and Matt’s tiny flat or Allison’s apartment and it was just the four of them.  But the rest of the time, he’d walk in to find the rooms overflowing with strangers, shouting and singing and drinking, and he’d make himself stay for a while because it made his friends happy.

Even though it seemed likely Nicky’s (even though it was at Aaron and Katlyn’s house, it was definitely Nicky’s party) New Year’s Eve party was going to be a decent size, it felt different.

On the bed next to him, Andrew’s phone vibrated, dragging Neil out of his abstraction.  Andrew was perched on the windowsill, reading, and didn’t look up.

Neil pushed himself up, and sat cross-legged on the bed.  The phone slid down the dip in the mattress towards him.  He flipped it over.

The screen showed a blank head-and-shoulders silhouette and below the message ‘video call from the pest’.

‘Who’s “the pest”?’ Neil asked.

Andrew didn’t answer.  He didn’t tell Neil to decline the call either, so Neil tapped the green phone icon.

Nicky’s face appeared on the screen.

‘Oh,’ Neil said.  ‘It’s Nicky.’

‘What do you mean, “it’s Nicky”?’ Nicky asked.  ‘Didn’t you look before you answered?  You shouldn’t answer video calls from every random that wants to chat to a smokin’ hot Exy superstar!’

‘I did look,’ Neil protested.

‘Then why didn’t you- oh, Andrew doesn’t have some kind of mean nickname as my contact does he?’

‘No,’ Neil said quickly.

‘Yes,’ Andrew said, loud enough for Nicky to hear him from across the room.  ‘You’re “the pest”.’

Nicky paused, looking thoughtful.  ‘That is actually not too bad.  Honestly, I would be more offended if you didn’t have my contact as a nickname.  I only do that to people I really hate, you know?’

Neil didn’t know.  On the other hand, calling people mean nicknames did actually seem to be a display of affection, Andrew-style. 

‘But what about my-  are you telling me I _don’t have a contact photo_?’

‘Well…’

‘Oh my God.’  Nicky leant closer to the camera so that it showed only the upper half of his face and raised his voice, so that Andrew could hear him easily.  ‘That’s _cold_ , Andrew, really cold.’

He leant back and said conspiratorially, ‘Don’t worry, Neil, I’ll steal it tonight and get some selfies to upload.  Although I bet my troglodyte cousin doesn’t even have any filters.

Anyway, tonight is the real reason I called you guys!  I wanted to check what you were wearing.  No offence, Neil, but every time I’ve come over to see you, you’ve been in horrifically baggy sweats, so I thought I’d better make sure you dressed right tonight.’

Neil considered pointing out that he’d been wearing soft, oversized clothing because a good portion of his skin had been flecked with third-degree burns.  But then again, oversized and soft described every item of clothing Neil owned.

‘Let’s start with the easy part before we tackle the problem child.  Ha, Andrew, this is literally the only time you’re the less problematic half of this relationship.  Neil, take me to him,’ Nicky demanded.

Neil picked up the phone and climbed off the bed to perch next to Andrew.  He tilted the screen so Nicky could see him.

‘All right, Andrew, what are we wearing tonight?’

‘You’ve already seen it,’ Andrew told him.

‘What?  Are you gonna wear the suit from the ball?  It’s a bit cheap to wear the same suit to two consecutive events!’

 ‘I wasn’t expecting such a social trip,’ Andrew said with a hint of distaste.  ‘I didn’t think to pack a selection of dress wear.’

‘Well if you want you can-‘

Andrew cut Nicky off.  ‘I will wear the black shirt from the ball with black jeans.  Now go and bother someone else.’

‘Glad to hear you’re mixing up the colour scheme,’ Nicky grinned. ‘Now, Neil.  Take me to your clothes.’

Obediently, Neil opened the single drawer he’d emptied his duffel into and aimed the camera inside.

The line went silent.

‘Is it _all_ sweats?’ Nicky asked in an appalled voice.

‘It’s all sweats,’ Andrew confirmed, grimly satisfied with Nicky’s dismay.

‘I.  I used to have some jeans, but they got too torn up.  And I was wearing my work clothes when- so they were ruined,’ Neil said defensively.

‘What about your suit from the ball?’

‘Well.  I kinda.  Left it under a dumpster.’

Andrew raised an eyebrow.

Nicky practically sobbed, ‘Why are you like this.  Why, Neil, why?  Andreeeew, make him wear something.  You’ve got to do something.’

Andrew beckoned to Neil.  When he came over, Andrew took the phone from his hands and looked directly at it for the first time. 

‘Looks like he’s wearing sweats,’ he told Nicky, and hung up.  ‘If he calls again, you decline,’ he ordered Neil.

Neil smiled impishly.  Andrew glared and flicked his forehead. 

‘I’m going to shower.  Do you want to, before we go?’

‘I’m fine,’ Neil said.

Andrew disappeared into the bathroom. 

A while later, there was a gentle knock at the door.  Neil got up and opened it cautiously.

‘Hey, babe,’ Allison said.  ‘I’m here on a mercy mission.’

Neil let her in.  ‘What are you talking about?  Aren’t you off today?’

‘Nicky called me, said it was an emergency, so I came right over.  Only stopped to get this.‘ Allison shoved a folded stack of clothes at his chest.  Neil took them reluctantly.  Allison removed an item from the top of the stack and shook it out to show him.

‘White t-shirt.  And, no, it’s not the same as the ones you already have, this one is in your actual size and slim fit.’  She tossed it onto the bed and took the next item.

‘Jeggings.  Should be soft enough that they’re comfortable with your injuries.  And, finally, oversized sweater.  I just sorted you an outfit from scratch in twenty minutes flat.  Tell me I’m a genius.’

Neil stared at her.

‘Ugh.  Jeez, don’t overwhelm me with gratitude.’

‘….Thank,’ Neil managed.  ‘How… You said Nicky called you?  How do you even know Nicky?’

‘He’s literally been here every day this week.  It would have been hard to miss him.  But since you ask:  he noticed my Choos, I said I liked his haircut.  We just had an instant connection.  And when I realised it’s his party you invited us all to for New Year’s it was definitely worth getting to know him.

Anyway, he called me up in a panic because you were being problematic and he was too busy getting the house ready to sort you out.  I mean, I was also busy getting my face ready, but I decided I would make that sacrifice so that you didn’t show up looking like a dork.’

‘Okay.  Uh, thanks,’ Neil repeated, too confused to say much else.

‘Whatever.  Thank me by trying them on.’  Allison turned her back, and waited with arms folded.

He hesitated, then began to change quickly, knowing Allison wouldn’t turn but unable to feel entirely comfortable.

She had been right: the fabrics were soft enough that they didn’t bother him at all, even if the shirt and jeans were a lot tighter than he’d usually pick out.  That seemed to be a common feature of clothes Allison bought him.

He told her this, and she looked him up and down, expression amused.  ‘Come on, Neil, it’s just slim fit.  It’s not even skinny- which by the way, _you_ are.  You should eat more or something.  Just go look in the mirror.’

Neil had been avoiding the mirror.

After the warehouse, the doctor had cut his hair short so they could easily monitor the wounds hidden by his (admittedly out of control) hair.  Since it had been a few weeks since he’d last done his roots, all his hair looked auburn now.  Since Nathaniel Wesninski was dead, Neil hadn’t bothered to dye it back yet.  It didn’t mean he wanted to see it.

The dark green sweater made his now auburn hair stand out more.  At least it was loose. 

Andrew emerged from the steamy bathroom, dressed and with freshly styled hair.

He looked Neil up and down, and then looked over to Allison.

‘Why the hell are you in my room.’

Allison grinned.  ‘Nicky sent me on a mission of mercy.  I thought at least _you_ would be grateful.’

Andrew’s expression froze over as he turned to Neil.  ‘When I told you to decline Nicky’s calls, that implied you shouldn’t let his minions in here.’

‘Should have made it obvious,’ Neil said.  ‘I’m stupid, remember?’

‘Get the fuck out of my room,’ Andrew said.  ‘I need to leave this hotel.’  He was still looking at Neil, but he seemed to be addressing Allison.

 ‘Alright then.  See you tonight,’ she told Neil, and hurried away, presumably to finish her own ensemble.

Andrew was still looking at him.

Neil squeezed his arms harder against his chest.

‘If you don’t like wearing it, don’t,’ Andrew told him.

‘I’m fine… I’m just not used to wearing things that are meant to make people notice me,’ Neil answered.

‘People always noticed you.  You were just oblivious,’ Andrew said.

‘People… like you, for instance?’

Andrew ignored that.  ‘Are you ready?’

 

***

 

Judging from the sound of music and laughter that Andrew could hear from the stairwell up to Aaron’s apartment, the party had already started.

Andrew wondered if Aaron was pleased at Nicky throwing a party in his flat.  He wondered if Aaron was glad he was coming.

‘Hey,’ Neil said, and Andrew realised he was standing motionless in front of the door.  ‘Before we- well- yes or no?’

He flushed as he stuttered.  Andrew traced the rising colour as it spread Neil’s cheeks, highlighting the delicate contours of his face.

‘Yes,’ Andrew told him.

Neil leant forward and-

Slipped his hand into Andrew’s, and laced their fingers together.

He looked down at their entwined hands, and Andrew could see a ridiculous smile on his face.  Neil didn’t look up when he asked, voice soft and on the edge of embarrassment, ‘Is this okay?’

Andrew brought his other hand up to Neil’s chin, and tilted his head up.  When Neil finally looked at him instead of their entwined hands, Andrew moved in close enough that when he breathed out, it blew gently on Neil face, and his hand tightened involuntarily around Andrew’s.

‘Andrew,’ Neil said lowly.

Andrew closed the gap between them, and kissed Neil.

No one had surprised Andrew in so long.  For as far back as he could remember, every event in his life had been predictable.  Every foster family that was a replay of the one before.  His blood family, the same.  Every promise that was broken, again and again.

Until he’d been in a hotel, and a voice had surprised him from above.  Nosy, audacious, irritating.  And then again, and again, Neil Josten surprised him at every turn: agreeing to the ball, ripping into Riko, trying to protect Andrew, promising to stay- and now, holding his hand.

Neil’s head thudded back against the wall, and Andrew brushed his lips over his neck.  Neil swallowed convulsively.

‘Andrew,’ he said again, voice wrecked, ‘We’re- already- late-‘

‘Do you want me to stop?’ Andrew murmured against his neck.

‘Mmm- I- don’t stop,’ Neil stuttered.

He found Andrew’s lips again, and slowly raised one hand to Andrew’s hair.  Andrew lent his head into Neil’s palm, and felt his fingers rubbing gently at his scalp.

The door beside them flew open. 

Neil jumped half out of his skin, and Andrew broke away from him to glare over his shoulder.

Nicky looked between them, and grinned.  ‘ _Now_ I know why you’re late!’

‘I was-‘ Neil said quickly, then realised there was nothing he could say that wasn’t already being said by his reddened lips and mussed hair.  ‘Just coming,’ he finished lamely.

Nicky winked, and Andrew wondered how much he’d drunk already.  When he turned to lead them inside, Andrew reached out to quickly pat Neil’s hair down.  Neil grinned at him, so Andrew narrowed his eyes and flicked his forehead.  Neil wasn’t perturbed.

Seeing them had either made Nicky forget what he’d come out for, or he deemed it more important to share his gossip than what he’d been doing, because he grabbed Neil’s sleeve and pulled him (and by extension, Andrew) into the apartment.

To Andrew’s surprise, Nicky didn’t immediately announce to the room what he’d seen.  In fact, he walked right past the people Andrew had expected him to tell first.

‘Cmon, cmon… okay, here, what do you want to drink?’ Nicky asked, releasing Neil when they reached the kitchen bench, which was crowded with cans and bottles.

‘Nothing,’ Andrew told him.

‘Whyyyyyyyy?  Won’t you drink with us anymore?’ Nicky whined.

‘I’m driving.’

Nicky frowned in exaggerated, tipsy confusion.  ‘You never used to care about that in college.’

‘I was stupid in college,’ Andrew reminded him.  He’d also been clinically depressed and an addict with few reasons to live, so his assessment of the risks of driving under the influence had been pretty flawed.

‘But-‘ Nicky began, before a voice from behind Andrew cut him off.

‘His tolerance is shot because he never drinks any more.  He’s an _athlete_ ,’ Kevin said piously.

Andrew turned around, and frowned up at him.

‘Ah.  Nicky called me and said you’d been kidnapped,’ Kevin said, answering Andrew’s unspoken question.  ‘I was… worried.  I came down to find out if you were okay, and then Nicky said I could stay for New Year’s.’

Andrew didn’t know quite how to react to that.  Neil stepped into the gap before he had to.

‘Kevin _Day_?’ Neil said.

‘Junkie,’ Andrew muttered, and pushed Neil in front of him.  The two men stared at each other for a second, before Neil said something just this side of rude about Kevin’s last game.  And with that, they were off.

Andrew left them to it, and wondered away into the crowd.  He was waylaid again before he got far.

‘Renee.’

‘Andrew,’ she smiled.

‘Let me guess,’ Andrew said.  ‘Nicky called you and told you I’d been kidnapped.’

‘Actually, no.  Well, I mean, he did tell me, but I was already here,’ Renee explained.  ‘I only got back from Zambia.  I thought I’d come down and see you, so I heard all about it when I got down here.  I’m glad you’re okay.’

‘I was never in any danger.’  Well… not much danger.  Not during the time he was “kidnapped” at least.

‘I also heard a lot about someone called Neil.  Is that him?’ 

Andrew followed her gaze to where Neil was still talking intensely with Kevin.  Neil glanced over at them, and Andrew beckoned.  Neil immediately slipped around Kevin and hurried over, leaving the man looking slightly forlornly after him.

‘Hey, Andrew…?’

‘Renee.  Neil.’ Andrew introduced them.

‘Oh.  Renee?’ Neil said, taking in her brightly coloured hair (baby blue at the minute) and her warm smile.  And something else, too: Andrew could see Neil evaluating her easy, wide stance, the almost imperceptible scars on her neck, her subtly muscled physique.  ‘Andrew said you were his sparring partner?’

‘And foster sister,’ Renee added.  ‘Although we were only in the same home for less than a year, we kept in touch.  Well.  I kept in touch, and Andrew let me.’

The girl Andrew had met when he was thirteen and she was fifteen had had dyed black hair and knives in hidden in the lining of her single backpack.  She and Andrew had understood one another, enough to leave the other alone.  Until one day, for no particular reason, they had fought, and realised they both had something to gain from an alliance.  Then Renee was moved on, and Andrew too, two month later.

Two years later, Andrew received a letter from Renee Walker.  She had been adopted and she was beginning to trust Stephanie Walker. 

Andrew did not tell her that Cass wanted to adopt him.

Andrew didn’t tell her anything, except _we’re not fucking pen pals piss off_.

Except she didn’t, so they were.

‘Now, Neil, I do have a quick favour to ask,’ Renee said lightly.  ‘Who is _that_?  Did you invite her?’

Neil glanced over his shoulder.  ‘Ah… you mean Allison?  In the red dress?’

‘Yes.’

‘She’s a friend of mine.  We both work at the Foxhole Hotel.’  Neil looked slightly uncertainly at Renee.  ‘I don’t know if you swing that way but, um, she’s bi and single and keeps telling me about it.  Like, a lot.’

‘Oh, really?’ Renee answered blandly.  ‘Well, I’m going to go introduce myself.’

‘Your funeral,’ Andrew muttered.  He’d only met Allison a week ago, but like all of Neil’s friends, she’d visited their room at least twice every day.  With or without his permission, since they all had multi-keys.

Not that he would have stopped Neil from seeing anyone he wanted to see anyway, but letting yourself into someone else’s room was obnoxious.  That summed up Allison pretty well:  obnoxiously loud fashion, obnoxiously inane gossip, and obnoxiously prying questions.

But whatever.  Renee could find that out for herself.

Neil was watching them, head on one side.  He looked confused, as the bright sound of their mingled laughter (Renee’s soft, Allison’s brash) rose over the noisy conversations and background music.  Renee stepped a little closer to Allison, and tilted her head back to look up a little at the taller woman.

‘It’s called flirting, idiot,’ Andrew told him.  ‘It’s how people let other people know that they’re attracted to them.’

‘Huh?  Really?  You think Ally can tell just from…’ Neil gestured wordlessly at Renee.

‘It’s not like she’s being subtle,’ Andrew answered.

‘Huh.  I guess I never notice… stuff like that,’ Neil said.  He looked at Allison again, and his cheeks twitched like they did when he was biting down a smile.

Neil shuffled a little closer to Andrew.  He glanced over his shoulder. 

Allison tossed her hair.  Neil jerked his head to the side.

Allison raised her hand up to cup her neck.  Neil slapped a hand onto his neck.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Andrew asked.

‘Flirting.  Duh.’ Neil grinned.

‘You.  You’re… a moron.’  Andrew was actually lost for words to express Neil’s idiocy.

Neil laughed.  ‘What?  I just find you attractive.  Don’t get worked up.’

‘I am not _worked up_.’

‘Okay,’ Neil said, still grinning his stupid grin.

There was nothing Andrew could do about it- at least, nothing he was willing to do in front of other people, so he just turned and walked away.  Neil laughed at his retreating back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> Sorry for breaking up the party! This is just super long so I decided to post it in two chapters.
> 
> How does Allison afford Jimmy Choo shoes on an almost minimum wage? Why does she decide to wear heels to clean rooms? I honestly don’t know, I just know somehow she would.  
> Is Renee being in Peace Corps canon, or is that just a head cannon? I've been in this fandom too long...
> 
> Also Andrew doesn’t like Allison. I just can’t imagine those two personalities ever peacefully co-existing.
> 
> In personal news, I’ve just started listening to the podcast Welcome to Night Vale, so it’s taking all my resolve not to suddenly add offbeat supernatural occurrences into all of my writing, including this fic. Idk if there’s any other fans out there (pls drop me a line because I am already obsessed), but keep an eye out for accidental-on-purpose glow clouds.


	14. XIII Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously:Neil is working as a maid in The Foxhole hotel and somehow stumbles into dating Andrew Minyard, world-class Exy player and a guest in the hotel. Andrew has missed his family Christmas party (and his first social interaction with Aaron in years) due to mission save Neil from mortal peril. Nicky has convinced Neil and Andrew to come to a New Year’s party instead. At the party, Andrew introduces Neil to Renee, who explains how they were put into the same foster home as children, and how they kept in touch with Andrew afterwards as pen-pals.
> 
> Translation of what Erik says to Nicky: Nicky, honey, what’s wrong? (Nicky, mein schatz, was ist los?)

**XIII**

**Choices**

 

Andrew headed towards the drinks table.  He was beginning to think a drink might be worth having to walk back across town with Neil after the party.

‘Hey, Andrew.’

Neil.  And now this.  Andrew stopped, and turned around.

‘What do you want?,’ he asked his brother.

‘Andrew, please can we- can we just talk?’ Aaron said.

Andrew stared blankly at his brother.

‘You talked to _Renee_ ,’ Aaron said.

When Andrew had been living with Aaron and with Tilda, Aaron had noticed a handwritten letter for Andrew.  He'd taken it upon himself to open it, and then he held it out to Andrew like an accusation and demanded how long he’d been writing to Renee.

Andrew hadn’t seen any reason to lie, but when he told Aaron four years, he’d looked like Andrew had hit him.

He’d said, ‘You'll answer letters from some random you shared a house with for a few months but you'll just blank a letter from your actual twin brother?’

At the time, it had seemed like a good idea to inform Aaron he hadn't _ignored_ his letter. Andrew had torn it up, and actually gone so far as to burn the scraps.

It had shut Aaron up, but when years later he talked it over with Betsy, he had to acknowledge it hadn't been the most constructive response.

It wasn't Aaron's fault after all, that he understood only one half of the reason Andrew had burnt the letter - spite. The other half - protection - he had no way of realizing.

Anyway.  Aaron had unresolved issues with Andrew and Renee’s relationship.  Andrew was sick of this, of the same old shit Aaron had always spouted.  He began to turn away, but Aaron’s hand, reached out quickly- and he stopped just before he touched Andrew’s shoulder.

‘I mean- shit, I didn’t mean that, okay.  I really just want to talk, and I’ll do it right here if I have to.’  Aaron took a deep breath, and said quietly, ‘These last years there’s been a part of my life missing.  I want you to be here, okay?  I know it’s been shitty, we’ve both-  It took me a long time but I want you in my life so please don’t just leave.’

Aaron wanted _him_ not to leave?  Really?

Andrew bit back the acidic words that burnt up his throat.

‘What about Katlyn?,’ he asked eventually.

‘She wants you to stay too.  No, really.  She knows I-  I missed you.’

‘Your not-‘ Andrew said, but even he wasn’t sure what he was going to deny.  Aaron’s sobriety, maybe.  His memory, of how bitter and twisted their time together had been.

‘Please stay,’ Aaron said, and winced when Andrew frowned a little at the word, and rushed onwards.  ‘Don’t stay because you promised, not this time.  Stay because I asked.  Maybe even because you want to.’

‘I do not want anything from you,’ Andrew said.

‘Okay.  But one day, maybe.’ Aaron said.

Andrew let that pass.

He didn’t want to be in this room anymore, with too many people talking too much about things he didn’t care about.

He edged through the apartment and let himself out into the corridor.  Andrew took a moment just to breathe air that wasn’t clogged with the scent of perfume and booze.  Being outside would be better, so he headed for the stairs.

 

***

 

Neil glanced over his shoulder.

‘Am I boring you?’ the girl he’d been half-heartedly chatting to laughed.

Neil thought it unwise to answer that, so he just said, ‘I’m looking for someone.’

‘Someone more interesting than me?’ she pressed.

‘Uh,’ Neil said,’ I’m gonna just-‘ he gestured vaguely behind her, and as she turned, headed in the direction she wasn’t looking.

‘Neil!’ Nicky yelled, and draped an arm around his shoulders.  ‘I saw that, you heartbreaker.  I mean, like, you better be good to Andrew or else and all that, but there’s no harm in letting a girl down easy, you know?’

‘What?’ Neil asked.

‘You- she- never mind,’ Nicky sighed.  ‘How the hell did Andrew ever actually get you out on a date?’

‘He just asked,’ Neil said, neatly excising ninety percent of the truth.

‘He just _asked_?  Neil, you wouldn’t realise someone asked you on a date if they, like, got down on one knee and offered you a pack of candy hearts.’

‘What are you talking about?,’ Neil said.  It wasn’t even late, only quarter to midnight, so how was Nicky so far gone?  ‘I pay attention when Andrew asks me stuff, okay?’

Nicky made a cooing noise.  ‘You two!  Are so cute!’

‘Um, yeah,’ Neil hedged.  ‘Anyway, did you see where Andrew went?  I’ve been looking for him all over.’

Nicky straightened up, abruptly serious.  ‘He was talking to Aaron.  It, uh, looked pretty intense, but neither of them were yelling at the end so I think it went well.  I found Aaron practising a speech in the bathroom mirror the other day, so I kinda of figured he was working up to saying something big to Andrew.  Afterwards, Andrew headed out, but I thought I better just give him some space for a while.’

‘When did he go?’ Neil asked.

‘About half an hour ago, I think, not much past eleven.’

‘I’m gonna go find him,’ Neil said, already moving past Nicky.  Nicky snagged his arm as Neil passed, and spun him around to face him again.

‘Wait, just wait a sec!’  Nicky paused, still holding Neil’s arm tightly.

‘What is it, Nicky?’ Neil prompted, a little annoyed at the man for delaying him when Andrew was on his own somewhere dealing with whatever shit his brother had dumped on him.

‘I just… I guess I want to say thanks.  For coming tonight, I mean, you don’t seem that comfortable with a big crowd in a small space-‘

Neil frowned.  He’d been doing his best to hide his discomfort, so he was surprised that Nicky had picked up on it.

‘-but also for what you’re doing with Andrew.’

‘What I’m-?  I didn’t do anything,’ Neil protested.

‘I’ve never seen him like this before, with anyone else,’ Nicky said.  ‘He really cares about you.  I haven’t seen that from him with anyone outside of our family, well, ever.  He sort of liked Exy, and he likes Renee and Kevin, most of the time, but not like he is about you.  I wasn’t sure if he’d ever find that, so I’m just really, really glad he has.  So yeah, thank you.’

Neil didn’t know how to respond to that, but Nicky was looking kind of watery around the eyes, so he just patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.

It was a mistake.  The second his hand touched his shoulder, Nicky burst into tears and flung his arms around Neil, sobbing into his shoulder.

Neil stumbled back under the weight of the taller man, until he managed to dig his heels into the floor to stabilise them.  He patted Nicky gently on the back.

‘Um.  There… there?’  He attempted.  ‘Please stop crying…?’

It didn’t seem to help.  He looked around wildly for help, and spotted a dark head on the other side of the room.

‘Ah… Erik?’ He called loudly.

The man turned and, spotting Nicky, hurried though the crowd.

‘ _Nicky, mein schatz, was ist los_?’, he said.  He glanced at Neil’s rigid posture, and gently removed Nicky’s arms from around Neil’s neck and, guiding a still sobbing Nicky towards himself, wrapped them around his own waist.

‘ _Nichts,’_ Nicky said.  ‘I’m.  Just. So Happy.’ Each word was punctuated by another sob.

‘And so drunk,’ Neil muttered, then louder to Erik, ‘I think he might have had a bit too much to drink.’

‘Perhaps,’ Erik agreed placidly.  ‘He was every excited about tonight.  This has been a long time coming, I think, and he worked very hard to bring it about.’

Neil blinked.  ‘The party?’

‘Aaron and Andrew.  Talking.  Being brothers.’

‘Oh.  Well, if you have Nicky, I’m actually gonna go find Andrew…’

‘Of course,’ Erik said, and steered Nicky away to someplace more private to recover.

Neil pushed his way through the crowd to the door, and half fell though into the blissfully cool corridor.

Where would Andrew have gone? There was no balcony here. He might have headed up to check if the roof was accessible but the chances seemed slim.

Neil deliberated for a moment, then headed down the stairs.  On the steps just outside the door to the building, he found Andrew, breathing smoke into the icy darkness.

Neil sat himself down on the stone steps, within Andrew's reach but not touching him.

without looking at Neil, Andrew nudged the pack of cigarettes towards Neil.  Neil took a single, slow drag before holding the cigarette cupped in his hands.  The sounds of the party five floors above them drifted out of the open windows.

It seemed impossible that one year ago, Neil had been alone in the world, with no aim except survival.  The only thing keeping him alive was muscle memory and the knowledge that he couldn’t let his mother’s death mean nothing.

How had he got here, to a whole room of people he cared about and cared about him?  How was it that the smoke he was breathing in tasted of Andrew?

‘Shut up,’ Andrew said.

‘I didn’t say anything,’ Neil protested.

‘You were thinking loudly.  It’s annoying.’

Neil bit down on a smile.  ‘Can I borrow your phone?’

Finally, Andrew looked at him.  Neil waited him out until Andrew heaved a put-upon sigh that Neil didn’t believe, and handed over his phone.

From memory, Neil tapped out the number.

The call connected.

‘Hi Stuart,’ he said.  ‘It’s Neil.  I made my decision.  I’m going to stay.’

‘Alright,’ Stuart said.  ‘But understand, we can’t watch over you from Baltimore.  New York isn’t going to be our turf.’

‘I understand.  Thanks for everything.’

‘Don’t need to thank me, kid.  We both got we wanted.  Look after yourself.’

Stuart ended the call.

Neil switched off the screen and passed the phone back to Andrew.

Andrew was watching him, his expression indecipherable. 

‘What’s the time?  Is it nearly midnight?’ Neil asked.

‘Eleven fourty-eight.  Are you expecting my car to turn into a pumpkin?’

Neil smiled.  ‘No.’

‘Why do you want to know?’ Andrew clarified.

‘I want to make a wish.’

‘New Years is for resolutions.’

‘That works too,’ Neil said.

‘You’re ridiculous,’ Andrew said, but he waved up at the open windows above them.  ‘You’ll hear the countdown.’

They waited- or Neil did, anyway.  Andrew just smoked. 

After a while, when Neil couldn’t hide his shivering any longer, Andrew scooted over to him and let Neil press into his side to steal some of his body heat.

The noise from the party dropped to a murmur, and then rose again as they chanted the countdown:

_Ten-nine-eight-seven-six-_

Neil counted along under his breath.

_Five-four-three-two-ONE_

Cheers erupted into the night.  Distantly, fireworks cracked.

‘Hey, Andrew,’ Neil said.  ‘I’m going to stay.’

‘Shut up,’ Andrew said again.  Then he kissed Neil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's been so long since the last update! My pre-university exams start in a week, so I've been in a bit of a panic revision spiral.  
> Just a short little chapter to wind up the party! Now, should I write an epilogue… hmmm ;)  
> Listened to stay by rihanna on repeat while writing this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> I'd love to hear from you! I will treasure any and all comments, even just <3 would really make my day :D


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